


To Look Into The Eyes Of The Sun

by sian1359



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Case Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/pseuds/sian1359
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a serial killer on the Islands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Look Into The Eyes Of The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from a line in Springsteen's Blinded By The Light. Thank Yous go out to auburn for the edits and suggestions that are always spot on. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.
> 
> Written for the 2011 Casestory Big Bang.
> 
> The fantastic artwork was created by speak_me_fair

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**Prologue:**

His first kill came stunningly easy. People generally trusted authority figures, stupid tourists even more so. Plus tourists had no clue as to what proper uniforms, credentials or procedures entailed. Not that he'd skipped on his props – his own or the victim's.

If there had been any hitch, it had come from his last minute decision to change his target and save destroying Moku'aikaua for his final act, his anti-act of contrition. Encouraging someone to feast on poisonous berries in the Garden of Eden Botanical Gardens over on Maui had had its own sense of appropriateness, as did going with something basic, innocuous really; a death that only he knew was from his hand. Indeed, the death had gone mostly unremarked, warranting mention only in the Police and Fire section of local paper with a reporter lamenting over the death of the poor priest.

He decides to stay on Maui for a couple of weeks, just in case, keeping an eye and ear out, and otherwise going about his business as if nothing had happened and doing nothing to trigger an suspicions. As far as he can tell, the local medical examiner and the Maui County Police Department will determine the death as accidental, despite some confusion over why a tourist from Detroit had dressed up as a priest. But then, Rufus Dogett hadn't been the only visitor who dressed for the location. Religious fervor did make people do… interesting things.

hat things hadn't gone perfectly however, which only reaffirms his decision to hold off on the crucifixion until the end, whenever that may come. Even the longest running shows on Broadway have out-of-town trials first, after all, and those coming only after weeks and weeks of rehearsals. He is okay with viewing his first kill as an experiment, a testing of his strength and commitment. He has few doubts that he can achieve his goals, but he also prides himself on his willingness to be proven wrong.

It doesn't look like he had been wrong, though, and this success he finds quite satisfying. Still, his work only has meaning if it is acknowledged.

He supposes he should send the Governor some flowers or something. To thank her for creating her new task force. Just not a bouquet including Nightshade.

 **1.**

Looking out the windows of his office, Steve McGarrett had to wonder at it all. First, that he even had a window. Okay, technically, he'd had a window and an office when he needed one during his active duty in Naval Intelligence, in whichever city or base his service and investigations had called him. None of them had been permanent or home enough to call _his_ office, though, nor had he bothered putting up pictures of friends and family, or memorabilia worth explaining, much less seeing every day. None of them had been tricked out with custom furniture or equipment Steve had picked out himself either, just the standard Navy issue.

Wonder number two came from the fact that his office window was housed in the Ali'iolani Hale, the royal palace Kamehameha V had turned over to house government offices back in the day, and now home to the Hawaiian Supreme Court, the Judiciary History Center and the law library as well as his Task Force's offices. Of all of the places he'd lived and all of the places he'd thought of ending up in after his twenty in the Navy, returning to Hawaii wasn't one of them. A simple billet had been 'home' since becoming an adult, with Hawaii off his radar for far longer. Yet here he was, and here he realized he was thinking of staying, despite the doubts General Pak and Nick Taylor had given him. And that surprised him.

Scared him a little, too.

As did the fact that his window was in the 'Big' office – the _boss_ ' _s_ office. While with ONI and the SEALs before that, he'd indeed had people under his command, but he'd also been under someone else's command, several someones in reality, any one of which could literally send him anywhere in the world on a whim. Here, the Governor could assign him specific cases, had done so on more than one occasion and generally because of her own personal involvement with a victim, but he also could take on any investigation on his own whim, and had been given any resource – including his team – he'd requested.

In the Teams, there had been a certain fluid nature to the units he'd served in, with temporarily attached or detached personnel coming and going as called for by the job. He'd had the respect and loyalty of those people, but especially now, looking back at the man Nick Taylor had become, Steve could see that that respect had mostly been a provision of his rank and the inherent chain of command instead of something he'd personally earned. Sure, the men in his unit had been willing to sacrifice and die for one another, and a few had even turned into people he'd called friends, but there had been a level of detachment, a necessary distancing during their service together, that had kept their relationships from evolving into something that had lasted beyond. Including into his time with ONI, well, other than Catherine.

His Five-0 team, however, hadn't just become friends, but family, and that was most troubling part of all of this, if he was being honest.

He'd only taken _leave_ from the Navy after his father had been murdered; agreed to transfer to the Reserves while temporarily heading up the Governor's task force, but that had all been to make sure he wasn't cut out of bringing Victor Hesse to justice. When he'd accepted the posting, he hadn't thought much beyond catching Hesse, considering his time here as just another TDD, with the other cases they'd taken on simply necessary distractions. He'd had every intention of returning to active duty after the election, whether Pat Jameson got reelected or not.

Nick Taylor's betrayal had been a wake up call, however. He knew he could be forgiven for trusting Nick, especially coming so soon after Danny's HPD partner's death, and Danny's unwavering loyalty to Meka. His arrogance in treating the General Pak detail as a military mission over police duty wasn't as easily forgiven. Same with him holding onto his view that his continued participation in Five-0 was temporary. He was doing a disservice to his team as well as to the Governor. They deserved someone as invested as they were, either Steve, or someone else, someone who didn't always have one foot out the door.

But could he leave the Navy in order to become a cop? To follow all the way in his dad's footsteps: Navy first, then cop?

Not that he figured even Danny could turn him into a real cop; he had too many years of doing whatever he needed to eliminate threats to his men and his country to let the intricacies of due process and the legal burden of proof stop him from putting down the bad guys. He was getting better, at least in forgoing certain behaviors that might result in the criminals getting a free pass from the justice system. If he did this, though, if he decided once and for all to give up his Navy career, he'd have to do more than just make the occasional effort.

Not that Steve didn't enjoy Danny's rants when situations turned … creative. The DA's anger wasn't quite as entertaining, however, and –

"Steve?"

Steve turned around. Chin stood in his door, the expression on his face turning to concern at whatever 'face' Steve apparently was sporting.

"You okay, bruddah?"

Steve started to shrug, then found a smile as he realized his subconscious had already pretty much decided for him. He'd been denying this was now his home just as Danny had been. He made a gesture at himself and laughed. "Just been left with too much time to think, Chin. We need a new case."

Chin nodded; Steve knew he had his own demons ready to prey on quiet times.

"I may have found one," the other man offered. "A tourist was found – "

Chin stopped for a moment and stuck his head back out the doorway, obviously tracking where the rest of the team was and what they were doing, then stepped further into Steve's office. He didn't close the door – no better way than to attract attention, especially Kono's – but he did drop his voice.

Steve immediately went on alert. Too many of their cases had turned damn personal and no one was really back to an even keel.

"A tourist was found dead at the Polynesian Cultural Center. Hog-tied, wrapped in banana and ti leaves, and stuffed with onions and enough undissolved salt still left in his mouth that the local ME thinks he was suffocated before being roasted in the imu pit."

Suffocation wasn't all that better a way to die than being burned alive – certainly not if the victim had been conscious when the salt had been poured down his throat. Steve's own throat tightened just thinking about what it might have been like before dragging his thoughts away. Not that thinking about the implications of the murder was any better either.

Normally a simple, if gruesome, murder wouldn't have shown up on Chin's radar, not unless the victim had political or sensitive connections. Chin also would have lead with that if the victim's connections were relevant. Of course, any crime on the Islands was under the purview if they wanted to step in, but in this case Steve knew exactly why Chin had set up a tracking program to flag luau murders. He also had his explanation as to why Chin was keeping it low key.

While Danny hadn't showed any prolonged or unexpected distress after they'd solved Meka's murder by similar means, getting involved in something comparable so soon after would undoubtedly give him a new nightmare or two.

"Yeah, I know, not really our thing. Except maybe it is, despite how Danny might handle it," Chin responded in answer to Steve's look before Steve had chance to give voice to his thoughts. "I did a little searching and it appears that this isn't the first dead tourist to be found at one of our more famous local attractions, nor the first to be … staged for the area.  I think I've found five deaths over the last few months that fit into a pattern."

"Five?" Steve repeated, not sure whether to be angry or appalled. Even if the deaths had been cross-jurisdictional, someone should have noticed before Chin, and put it together. "Like a serial killer?"

Chin looked uneasy. "I'm not sure. Remember the body they found in the water at the Memorial a couple of weeks ago?"

Steve shrugged and gave a vague nod. He remembered hearing something; dead bodies near the _USS Arizona_ memorial made the news whether it had been murder or not. It would have been a Navy/NCIS case, though, cooperating (or not) with HPD. Steve still had his own rocky relationship with HPD, and he figured agency pissing contests was just part of the package. Full means and immunity didn't exempt him from political ramifications any more here than it had when he'd been with ONI.

Chin again looked like he was reading Steve's mind. "NCIS took over the case since the victim actually was Navy. It's technically still open, but the investigating officer wants to rule it an accidental drowning or suicide, since he found no signs of foul play or any other evidence of damage, including no drugs in the body."

"So why hasn't he signed it off?" Steve asked. In his experiences with NCIS over the years, he'd found them certainly dedicated and generally pretty good at their jobs, but like every other agency, there was also an expectation from the higher ups to clear open cases or at least pressure on the agent in charge to not waste time and move on when the case was an obvious slam dunk.

It was Chin's turn to shrug. "From all accounts, the petty officer was here in Hawaii strictly as a tourist while on leave between postings. Yet she was found in her dress whites. None of her friends or fellow Navy personnel thought she'd even packed her whites. Plus no one can find anyone witnessing her going out to the memorial, never mind video of any kind of her accident."

"Don't serial killers normally want recognition?" Technically, Steve supposed terrorists and arms dealers like Hesse might be considered serial killers to some folks, but he knew enough about police and criminals to know the difference. And that most cops had their own ideas on what classified as a proper serial killer.

Chin frowned. "It varies. Some seek the publicity as one of their major goals, while others view it as simply a bonus. This one, if I'm right, doesn't seem to need his name in the papers. At least not until his most recent murder. The four previous to the sailor's death were all ruled accidental. If I hadn't forgotten a parameter on my search string, I doubt a couple of them would have come up, but I ended up looking for tourists found dead at island attractions, no matter the cause."

Steve held up his hand to stop Chin from going further. "No use in you going over everything twice. Let's bring the others in… well, take it out to the C & C," he suggested. His office was comfortable enough for the four of them, but no doubt Chin would make use of the plasma screens to show visuals on the case files.

"Kono, Danny, we've got something," Steve then called out as he and Chin came out of his office.

As the other two in his team came out of their respective offices, Steve was amused to see Kono looking enthusiastic while Danny's expression was more of resignation even though in reality Kono was the one more likely to keep something close to regular hours (if only to make time for surfing), and Danny sometimes spent entirely too much time in their HQ when he didn't have Grace that night or during the upcoming weekend.  At least Danny's expression smoothed out when Steve gestured them over to the computer table instead of him commandeering Danny's keys.

"We've got a serial killer on the islands killing tourists and staging their bodies at some of our attractions," Chin told them, no longer hedging his conclusion.

Steve's figured the sudden confidence came from his own willingness to believe Chin's findings without Chin having to better justify or explain his data. While they didn't talk all that often about Chin's much more serious difficulties with HPD and the cops that still called him dirty, it wasn't like the team had forgotten – could forget. Chin's confidence in himself and his ability to trust hadn't returned to the levels they had been before the IA investigation, but they were getting there, something Steve was very proud of his involvement in making happen.

Not that he'd ever come right out and say anything or that Chin would want him too.

As expected, Chin immediately got busy with the table computer, accessing his files and throwing up a series of images on the hanging screens.  "I've linked six deaths. Before the most recent, the one most detailed is a Navy petty officer found at the _USS Arizona_ memorial, dead from drowning," he began, then proceeded to repeat the details he'd already given Steve. 

Danny turned Steve's direction when Chin finished. "I'm assuming you have NCIS contacts?" he asked. "because those who are headquartered back at the Washington Navy Yard are not known for their sharing nature."

Steve nodded with more confidence than he actually felt. It wasn't just the East Coast people, and for all that they worked for the same boss in the SecNav, the relationship between ONI and NCIS wasn't any better than NCIS' with local LEOs or other federal agencies. His relationship with Cassie wasn't as easy (or involved) as his with Catherine, so he'd have to be quite convincing to get her to send him a full copy of the filed report. 

Or he could go though the governor's office, but he was concerned there were only so many times he could get away with playing that card.

"Our first victim was found after hours at the Garden of Eden Botanical Park over on Maui," Chin continued as he swept the second set of images up onto the screens. "Local police concluded he'd mistakenly ingested nightshade berries, thinking they were something else. The levels of tropane alkaloids in his system suggested more than a handful, or that he'd also ingested a leaf or root. This certainly isn't the first time someone's poisoned themselves with nightshade berries, though most victims don't usually die. Most realize they're experiencing symptoms of something before they can eat enough to actually kill themselves."

Chin looked up, then around to everyone's face, and Steve was glad to note that neither Kono or Danny were reacting skeptically, both willing to hear Chin out.

"I pegged it as the first because of the timing; it took place only twenty days before the second killing, whereas I'd have to go back almost six months to find another tourist at a well-known island attraction found dead in a freak accident. Also, our victim was dressed as a priest, only he'd never been ordained, nor even gone to a seminary school. The collar and shirt were the type you'd find at a costume-party rental place, not authentic, but the local staff reported that they frequently get folks coming into the gardens dressed in some manner relating to the Garden of Eden, so it didn't raise any flags. Parts of Jurassic Park were filmed there, so there are often roadside stands set up selling dinosaur souvenirs and fig leafs to the visitors. No reason to suspect one might not have sold priest collars or nun habits too."

"Can we check on that?" Steve asked.

Chin shrugged. "The stands aren't sanctioned, so who pops up and where varies depending on how often they get shut down. It's been nearly three months, so it's likely the ones there now weren't trying their luck back then too, but I can make a couple of calls. Or Kono can. Doesn't Vince Palakiko still work for the Maui County PD?"

From Chin's knowing grin and Kono's sudden blush, it was obvious that Kono had once known Vince Palakiko pretty damn well. Steve worked on tempering his own smile, while Danny took pity on their rookie and directed them back to the case even though his own lips appeared eager to upturn.

"Victim number two?"

"As I mentioned, only twenty days later, there was a firecracker mishap over in Chinatown. The victim was a tourist who got too close to someone ordering a peach flambé with shanghai ginger ice cream. The flaming liquor splashed, setting off the nearby bag that supposedly had been bought to take back to Ireland for a Guy Fawkes Day celebration, according to the shop keeper who sold them, a Gao Xian. Mr. Gao remembered our tourist as she and a friend came in talking about Guy Fawkes, with the victim talking herself into picking them up though she was worried about whether she could take them through customs. HPD's not been able to identify the friend, who left the shop before our victim did. The victim's family had to be talked out of suing both the buyer and the seller of the dish, but everyone bought that it was just bad luck. "

"Good thing the Irish aren't quite as sue-happy as we Americans are," Danny snorted.  "My guess is it was an American friend who suggested the lawsuit in the first place, since both the buyer and seller were threatened." He frowned.  "Do we have a name for the buyer? Anyway to find out if the ice cream buyer and the victim's friend was actually the same person?"

Chin fiddled a little more with the computer and put up the details, including a driver's license picture. "Buyer's name is Kavan Keeaola, a native resident over on the Big Island. It seems unlikely they were friends, as our victim had only been here for a few days, but I can't be sure that HPD actually looked into him very deeply."

"Our serial killer could also be just someone who nudged or bumped the table, or maybe just the victim's bag," Kono pointed out. "Wouldn't it be too easy to have already identified the killer? And too sloppy?"

"Lots of serial killers have egos that trip them up, whether they're just starting out, or have terrorized a city for years," Danny spoke from obvious experience. "Sure, looking from the outside it seems too easy or sloppy, but we shouldn't just discount Mr. Keeaola for that. There has to be a reason these particular victims were chosen, and with all the staging going on, he's doing significant prep work. We just need to figure out his – or her," Danny added when Kono looked to call him on gender bias, " – key."

"I've already set the computers to crosschecking tours, flights, hotels and any other records we can use to link our victims," Chin confirmed. "Victim number three was a fan who managed to get into the Aloha Bowl stadium during the Wednesday flea market fifteen days after the Chinatown incident, climbed up somehow onto the roofing overhang, then took a header into the parking lot below. As you can imagine, his blood alcohol was well beyond the legal limits, and several broken bottles of Fire Rock were also found on scene. Oh, and he was dressed in an Arizona Cardinals jersey and painted his face half red, half white. This is the one I'm least confident in, but it still fits: tourist attraction in either the stadium even if they don't play the Pro Bowl here anymore, or the flea market, and the vic dressed up in something like a costume."

"Was the Irish girl in costume?" Kono asked. "You didn't mention anything."

"Just a Mandarin top, but of local manufacture, so it's likely _someone_ bought it here. It also didn't fit her all that well, according to Max's notes on what remained of her clothing."

For a moment no on said anything, contemplating whether that was as relevant as they obviously were all thinking, or whether they might be reading serial killer into every little data point.

"And victim number four?" Steve asked to get them back on track.

"A tourist found three and a half weeks after the body in the stadium, dead in his car up near Kalaupapa Beach, over on Molokai. He was impaled by a surfboard that had crashed through the front window. There was evidence," and here Chin isolated a portion of one of the images he called up and zoomed in, "that the board was secured to something with ropes, as there were frayed pieces found at the scene, along with tire tracks from multiple vehicles having parked and moved out from the location. But no witnesses have come forward to admit they might have lost their board, or even to having seen what happened. Any prints on the board were compromised by the weather, as were any tire tracks or foot prints; the local ME determined the tourist had been dead for three days before his body was found, and the local sheriff ruled it – "

"A freak accident," Kono and Steve both echoed Chin.

"Surfboards can't do that," Danny said instead. He sounded dead certain, enough that reflexively Steve felt the need to protest, especially given how little respect or love Danny exhibited for surfing.

"Don't even," Danny then warned, before Steve could do more than open his mouth.  Kono too, of course.

"Even if you don't look at the physics yourself, the Mythbusters proved it on their show," Danny bulldozed on. "Gravity wins over acceleration every time. Not to mention," he pointed at the middle picture, "the windshield's safety glass wouldn't break like that. It definitely was staged."

"What?" he then asked when Steve and the others just stared at him.

"Yes, I took physics courses. Several in fact, and at college level. Maybe I'm not MacGyver here like someone, or spend my time off rebuilding cars and motorcycles, or communing with the surf gods, but I do know things beyond the names of all the Disney princesses, and how to recite Miranda warnings in eight or nine languages."

"You watch _Mythbusters_?" Steve asked at the same time Chin questioned Disney princesses and Kono asked which languages.

"Even Rachel thinks Kari Byron is a good role model out of gender stereotypes for Grace, though I wish she wasn't quite so enthusiastic about shooting and blowing things up," Danny defended himself warily. "And I'll teach you," he rounded on Kono, "the different versions, once you surpass your mentor and actually remember to Miranda the perps without having to be coached."

"Hey – " Kono's protest echoed Steve's.

With long suffering practice – and patience – Chin brought them back to the case again before anything escalated, ignoring everyone's grins. "This victim was found in surf gear, well-worn surf gear, despite his friends and family saying he'd never even tried the waves before."

Steve realized that this was one more point in the plus column to staying. He didn't remember ever just enjoying the company of the people he worked with in the Navy the way he did these three. The sheer pleasure in teasing one another without having to worry about someone taking it wrong – or something escalating into a problem –  was something he'd miss unbearably, having known it.

"Then we have our Navy sailor at Pearl, only nine days later," Chin said as he switched the images, this time displaying all the victims instead of isolating the last one.

In a vain attempt, Steve figured, to lessen the impact of the luau death.

"And the most recent victim, the one that triggered me finding the others."

Not that it worked, although Danny only clenched his hands into fists. Clenched his jaw too. Kono made a distressed noise Danny wouldn't, along with an abruptly abortive move in Danny's direction. Though Danny hadn't changed his position to warn her off or even look at her, Steve didn't doubt Danny had noticed.

"The latest is the body of Wilson Evanston, found Sunday evening at the Polynesian Cultural Center, in the Alii Luau's imu pit."

"I'm curious," Danny started, and all Steve could think was here it comes. That they were about to be lambasted for staring – and caring. But Danny surprised him, although maybe Steve shouldn't have been. Being a cop for Danny wasn't just his job but, frankly, who he was.

"Just how frequently are people found dead in smoke pits? I mean," and now Danny was turning to look at his team, his face properly animated even if his expression was still lying about how he felt. "Every region has its own clichés, like bodies being taken out to the desert or thrown into the river.  Is a body smoked in a luau pit just a quirky island way of sleeping with the fishes? Easier because it's too damn expensive to keep importing cement?"

Steve let Chin field that question, knowing Chin would take it at face value whereas Steve couldn't help but see it as another way Danny resented Hawaii, even if he also knew the question was merely Danny deflecting. Comforting Danny wouldn't go over any better than allowing himself to be manipulated into fighting about something that had little to do with the case. There would be something he could do later, to distract or egg Danny into blowing off some of his tension and grief, of that Steve was certain.

As he was also certain that Danny would let him, would actually turn to him in Danny's own fashion. That he was Danny's relief valve despite their rocky start and often antagonistic interactions, just as Danny provided Steve with a sanity check (not that Danny realized Steve really did listen to him as he didn't always comply). In this Steve feared there would be a problem down the road, something escalating that could ultimately blow up in their faces and destroy the team, but he also had a sense it was inevitable, this thing between Danny and him, if he stayed.

A fact which was both a minus and a plus in his stay or go dilemma.

"It isn't common," Chin was saying. "Right now the investigating detectives at HPD are thinking whoever murdered Mr. Evanston could have been inspired by Meka's killing, that the murder style simply sounded interesting but has no other meaning. They haven't linked it to anything yet."

"How is our killer getting access?" Kono asked. "The Center is closed on Sundays. Even if the victim was killed Saturday night and deposited in the pit, it would have had to have been after the luau to go undiscovered, so after hours. And it's the same with the death at the memorial. Not just how were the bodies staged in their locations without someone seeing it, but when were they actually killed. And where? Shouldn't Max or one of the other MEs know if the bodies were moved from one crime scene to another?"

"Good question," Steve acknowledged. "It's unlikely someone works both for the Cultural Center and the Memorial, unless he's been switching jobs. And, yes, I know our killer could be a she," he said off of Kono's outraged look again.  "Look at the male bodies of the victims. None of them were small people, easy to move even for a man much less a woman. I'm not definitively saying the killer isn't a woman, but I'm also not going to ignore probability for political correctness. We need to come up with a list of all the types of people who wouldn't be noticed as out of place even after hours."

Danny turned Steve's direction, started to say something, then frowned and looked back up at the screens. "While it's maybe too early to say it's part of the pattern, the deaths so far are one on one of the other islands, then two here, one off and two local. If that holds, the next one should also be off, outside of HPD's jurisdiction."

"It's not out of ours," Steve growled. "If the killer's counting on remaining off the radar by changing jurisdictions, he's lost that and going to be disappointed."

"Whether it's an actual pattern, it's still a clue," Kono said. "Like at the sites, we've got someone who travels easily between the islands. If we compare footage from the airports to the footage taken at the attractions with CCTVs. Sure, there might be a lot of faces to catalog – "

"Like every tourist who comes here," Chin pointed out. "We'll also need to check charter helicopter and boat companies as well as all local marinas. Only that leaves all the rest of the coastlines where locals might use that we can't check. Narrowing down a list of people who make their living traveling between islands will be near impossible unless we can add something else to the filter. Still," he added, taking in Kono's crushed expression, "it is someplace to start. There aren't that many flights out to Molokai in general, plus how many people chose to visit Molokai when they've also spent time here or on Maui?"

"It's not like we have anything else," Steve started, turning what was going to be a statement into some kind of question. Danny was still focused on the screens, not the conversation.

"What are you thinking, Danny?" Steve asked. "What have you noticed the rest of us haven't?"

"It might not be anything. Mean anything. It's too easy to assume _everything_ has a meaning in cases like this," Danny started slowly. "But if you stretch a few things, there is a vague religious connection between each of the killings."

Steve still didn't see it. He motioned for Danny to continue beyond his pause.

"Okay," and finally Danny was moving, was gesturing, which told Steve he was preoccupied by the mystery, not memories of Meka or nightmares of finding bodies in imu pits.

"You've got either a priest or the Garden of Eden for victim one," Danny explained, raising a finger. "Another name for Guy Fawkes Day is Pope Day, in murder number two."

Another finger.

"For the third, well, cardinal has another meaning, and in the fourth killing, Molokai's the home of the leper colony, right? That was run by the Mormons back whenever?"

Fingers three and four came up simultaneously and gave way instantly to a waving hand.

"Then the _U.S.S. Arizona_ , which is tomb _and_ cathedral to a lot of people. Finally, according to Grace's homework, luaus originated when King Kamehameha II abolished the previous traditional religious practice that included men and women eating separate from each other. We could be looking for someone with a religious – or anti-religious – motivation."

"As well as a hatred of tourists," Kono added, back to her own enthusiasm in the case despite Chin having gently shut down her last observation. "Who the killer's victims are might not be as important as what they are. And where they're found."

"Meaning the killer is probably _kama'aina_ , born here at least if not of native ancestry," Chin agreed. "It doesn't narrow our search that much, but it will certainly help the profile we're building."

"Anyone else have something more to add?" Steve asked when only silence followed Chin's remarks. There was something in the back of his own mind that was nagging him about the cases; seeing it all laid out, he was absolutely convinced that Chin was right about the deaths being related, though he wondered if he'd be able to convince HPD and the other law enforcement agencies involved of the same.

It wasn't just trusting Chin's instincts, though he certainly did, and nothing he could put a finger – or a word – to, even within his own mind. His style of investigating relied more on intuition and leaps of logic than methodically putting the pieces together, something that had worked in the SEALs, on the sharp end, but not so much in police work, which was why the rest of his team was so invaluable. They each brought a different set of eyes, experiences, and skill sets to the table, all four of them complimenting and shoring up each others' weak areas in a way that people trained in the same traditions couldn't match.

"Where are the costumes coming from?" Danny asked. "Well, from obvious places, that probably number in the hundreds if not thousands, and all but the Mandarin top might be impossible to track down. What I mean is, is our killer buying the costumes first, then finding victims that might fit what he's gathered, or is he actually scouting victims first, then going out to pick up something appropriate?  The latter should have him interacting with the victim at least twice with a break, and that's something that might show up on video. Which is why it's probably the other way around," he answered himself. "Not to mention, the Mandarin outfit doesn’t fit. That victim was wearing it before she was killed, otherwise we'd have plenty of witness speaking up about her being un- and redressed in the restaurant."

"The latter scenario might not fit with the petty office either," Steve agreed. "Chin, do we – does NCIS – note whether the dress whites were actually hers? They're not that hard to buy if you know where to pick them up, but dress whites aren't that commonly available at surplus stores, and someone might remember selling them. If it was a internet sale, that would be harder to pin down – "

"Especially since we don't actually know if it was bought recently. We could have a killer that has planned this for years, but only now had something trigger the fantasy into reality," Danny pointed out.

"On the other hand, the ribbon sets, badges or tabs are not so easily obtained by civilians," Steve continued. "I can't imagine NCIS ignoring it if her fruit salad was out and out wrong or even set incorrectly. So our killer would have to have actually known quite a bit about our victim, or would have had to put her into – or convince her to wear – her own uniform."

Danny nodded. "Like the Chinatown victim. Implying the killer is spending time with the victims before they're killed, and maybe that he's picking more than someone who is simply the right size and sex, even if it's just adding on what they were already wearing."

"Except how many football fans dress up for game day when the game isn't until the weekend?" Kono questioned. "If the clothes are part of the pattern, we are narrowing in on his victim's profile at least. And potentially setting up a way to catch him. By giving him someone he has to pick."

"Yeah, if we had any idea how he chooses his locations," Chin again played dampener to his cousin's enthusiasm, even if he was also completely right. "There are too many attractions to cover, even if we could requisition the manpower for bait and back-up."

Danny was the one who said what they all now had to be thinking.

"If he keeps to what we do know, he's going to kill again before we figure the rest out."

 

 **2.**

None of them had actually expected the next murder to come so quickly, only eight days after the previous one. Timing didn't seem to be part of the pattern, at least not in a way any of them had identified, yet. And this one broke the pattern Danny had thought he'd found in the locations, at least in respect to how often he killed on Oahu as opposed to the other islands, making three here in a row instead of two. No one was doubting it was the work of their killer, though, not even the Governor, who'd at first been skeptical as HPD's Chief of Police when Steve had brought their findings to her, even if Governor Jameson had immediately proven more cooperative in giving Steve his head to run with it, or at least more indulgent. The dead tourist, dressed in full Pirates of the Caribbean pirate regalia and found in the middle of the International Market, was either their killer with his fondness for playing dolls with his victims, or someone making a bold statement against the selling practices of the crime scene's surroundings.

The call had come as Danny was dropping Grace off at school, a happy and out-of-schedule bonus of him getting to be with his daughter, no doubt the direct result of Rachel finally meeting Steve face-to-face and Danny's partner charming the socks off of his ex. The timing of the call was infinitely better than if he'd just been leaving to take Gracie over. It also meant that he was the one getting to drive his own car to the crime scene, as the early call meant he'd interrupted Steve's traditional morning swim when he'd stopped by to pick Steve up.

Not so happily – or maybe it was, Danny still wasn't sure which feeling he was trying to deny – a swimming McGarrett also meant a nearly naked McGarrett, which was something Danny had trouble facing. At least in the practical sense, all of that skin let Danny see that most of the bruises were well faded from Steve's taking out Nick Taylor, and he wasn't wrapping the stitches in his arm up any more to protect them from getting wet.  Not that Danny expected Steve had followed doctor's orders for more than the first couple of days.

Steve's state of undress also meant Danny could send him back inside for clothes and a towel that he could drip all over instead of on the Camero's seats, though, giving Danny the opportunity to already be behind the wheel by the time Steve came back out. In pants and a t-shirt that might as well have been missing given how they were wetly plastered against Steve's body. Did the guy only have one towel? Couldn't he dry off first?

"Laundry day?" was what Danny asked instead, getting a blank look from Steve in return, which was only to be expected. Really, if anyone was more unaware of his looks and totally unselfconscious about baring said looks, Danny wasn't sure he wanted to meet them.  At least not if they were also so damn clueless about how others might be reacting to said body.

At least Steve hadn't started pouting about not being the one behind the wheel.

"Do we need to stop for coffee, a Gatorade, or a cup of Darjeeling?"

Steve put on his serious face as he shook his head, all ready to focus on the case and incidentally ignoring Danny's dig about Steve and Rachel's bonding over the damn tea.  Which, okay, a new body did take precedence over yanking the guy's chain.

"No worries, brah. I can pick something up at the scene. Half of the stalls will be open by the time you get us there."

"At those prices?" Danny protested, funneling his outrage against being fooled by the face, not to mention the return dig on his driving, instead to the highway robbery of a five dollar cup of coffee. The original Starbuck had nearly been a pirate too. Well, at least almost a mutineer.

"Nah, Kono's got a cousin who runs a stand there."

Danny shook his head at the inevitability of that answer. "Of course she does." At least it was better than Steve charming yet another women into falling over themselves to do him a favor.  Wait –

"Real family or another instance where your local words have fifty different meanings and you're trying to pull one over on the _haole_?" Not that Danny would ever admit he was jealous of Steve's way with women. Or who he was actually jealous of.

For a second Steve looked bemused, which seemed to surprise him into answering honestly instead of riposting back. "Actually, I have no idea. I'm not even sure Chin and Kono make the distinction all that much. Nor would I ever try to pull something over on you, Danno."

Well, straight honesty for one fucking moment.

"Not that I could, what with you being such a great detective, with eighty-seven successful cases under your belt before you even got to the islands."

Danny ignored the easy answer, avoided taking it to a competitive level, since what Steve had done in the Navy wasn't really similar to what he'd done as a Jersey cop. Never would be too soon to remind Steve about the failure of his last case in active service.

Instead, he said, "Mocking, Stephen? You've decided to start our day with mocking?"

"No, you're right, Danny, I'm sorry," Steve agreed and apologized way too guilelessly. "In my defense," he started up again in his true colors, "I do think it's cute that you're jealous that I have a better rapport with Rachel than you do, however. I also don't understand how you could be married – what, seven or eight years to her?"

"Ten."

"Ten years, and you never acquired a taste for tea. I was taught marriage was about two people growing old together, growing closer together. Finishing each other's sentences, and – "

"And I do not waste my time acquiring a taste for anything," Danny interrupted, again avoided the inadvertent land mine that calling Steve on his concepts on marriage and parents. "Okay, yes, there have been two exceptions in my life. Coffee, because drinking that is part of being a cop, especially the industrial strength swill you get at any precinct in the country except for here; where everyone apparently harvests and grinds their own kona beans from their dwarf trees in their window boxes. Not to mention that drinking the equivalent in soda – or those crap energy drinks they sell now – would have made me fat."

"Also beer," Danny continued, bulling his way through the retort Steve was starting, no doubt in response to the fat comment. "Because drinking beer is the right of every boy, in addition to being one of our rights of passage, plus I refuse to embrace the other cop cliché by becoming a raging alcoholic."

Not that he hadn't made a go of it on Matty's couch right after Rachel had left him and taken Gracie away. He and Steve might be partners, and Stephen might be an insane control freak, but there were still some things about his private life that Danny intended to keep private. Steve knew enough about that time in his life.

"Tossing back a couple of beers at the end of long case, a successful case, or maybe every night when you got off duty at places called O'Malley's, while your buddies knock down bottles of scotch, bourbon or whiskey, is still a way of blending in."

Steve took the gimmee, since the team had its own tradition which wasn't all that different, though at least part of the time the beers where out of Steve's fridge (though too often paid by Danny's money), and also included steaks.

"You were once concerned about blending in?"

"And again you are mocking the tie. I'll have you know, _Kono_ picked out this tie for me," Danny waved at the garish Hawaiian sunset monstrosity, complete with dancing hula girl.

"As a joke, Danny. She never expected you to wear it."

Danny shot a smug grin Steve's way. "No, _you_ never expected me to wear it. And you are more embarrassed about this representation of your cultural heritage than you are about it being on a tie. I bet you've hidden your old Elvis painting on velvet too – no, it was John Wayne, wasn't it? Hung up over your bed, along with posters of Elle McPherson's Swimsuit Issue covers and fighter jets."

"You forgot my Joe Montana poster while you were stereotyping," was Steve's weak rejoinder. "And how do you even remember Elle McPherson's name, not to mention the fact that she appeared on several SI swimsuit covers, unless you had the magazines themselves hidden between your mattresses?"

"Only to keep them out of my little brother's hands," Danny laughed. "And to make sure my older sisters didn't catch me perpetuating gender stereotypes and man's need to denigrate women."

"Both hands on the wheel!" Steve squeaked when Danny had removed them for just long enough to make the air quotes.

"I've noticed the car is pulling a little to the right," Steve then added in a much more manly tone.

"And why do you think that would be, Stephen? Maybe because someone other than her owner drives into jungles and over moguls even Scot Schmidt would back away from?"

"Who in the hell is Scot Schmidt?"

"World-class freestyle skier. The guy who practically invented the 'extreme' version of the sport. I dated a girl back in college who loved those Warren Miller ski films. Schmidt featured in a lot of them in the nineties."

"So you ski?" Steve asked, this time without any overtones of mockery or challenge.

"I do, but I prefer snowboarding."

 

"You snowboard, Danny? You probably skateboarded too, when you were a kid, one of those annoying little toughs hanging around the corners on Bowery Street and getting in everyone's way. If you can do that, I don't see why you won't surf – "

"First off, there is no Bowery Street, at least not like you're thinking of, it's called The Bowery, and the streets involved including Canal, Delancey, Houston and Bleecker. It is also in New York, in Manhattan, if you have any interest in getting it right. While I understand that you people might think New York and New Jersey are interchangeable, I assure you, they are not. The _Boroughs_ aren't even interchangeable, and in some places, mixing up the five of them is enough to get a man killed. Nor is Jersey just New York's parking lot, only a turnpike exit, Atlantic City, or the fucking Jersey Shore. We happen to have our own woodlands, mountains and National Parks, including Ellis and Liberty Islands, by the way – "

"Hey, Danny, we're here," Steve interrupted.

Danny had noticed, of course, was actually just looking for a parking spot while avoiding all of the jaywalking tourists, because he could convey valuable knowledge while paying attention to the road – unlike some people he could name. Obviously, Steve was expecting him to park next to the black and whites already on scene, but traffic was already fucked up enough just with the tourists, without him further adding to the mess.  Even though it was only coming on nine, a crowd had gathered, probably to gawk at the police while they waited for the shops to open at ten.

He pulled into the next door Sheraton Princess Kaiulani parking garage instead, flashing his badge to the valet attendant, then taking one of the hotel employee spots right near the entrance. For just a moment he thought longingly of popping the trunk and pulling out his vest, since even though this was just a crime scene, with a body already dead and likely no sign of the killer, he was with Steve, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten into a shoot out following his crazy partner into an open air market.  Like just two weeks ago. Only Steve wasn't waiting for him, and he already had to hustle to keep up with Steve's stupidly longer legs.

Especially when Steve was stalking to a crime scene.

This one wasn't far, though the body had been tucked back out of the way in what had probably been a trash or restroom area some years past. Now it was just a spur of paving stones leading into some overgrown trees, well off any of the main paths. Plus the covered body, a handful of police, miles of police tape trying to cordon off the area and keep the throngs of tourists back.

The one thing Danny never made of point of was how it was his face and badge that got them through police lines better than the others on his team, _haole_ though he was. Steve actually should have been the one dealing with the HPD, given both his authority and his father's long term career with the Force here. But too many of the rank and file saw Five-0 as the Governor not trusting them to do their jobs, not to mention resenting for the full means and immunity thing that Steve maybe relied on a little too often. And, of course, Chin was still dirty thanks to IAs ham-fisted allegations and investigations, and thanks to Chin's own family members on the job who'd turned their backs on him first. Kono had been tarred with that same brush, by being the one who'd stood up for Chin regardless. 

Danny's former colleagues at HPD might not have liked _him_ , but they did respect success, and even some of the outsider dislike had started to fade after he'd stuck up for Meka, as well as proved who the dirty cop in that mess had really been. They also knew he'd been initially hijacked by Steve – against his will – into Five-O, not that Danny would change things back at this point. 

No, probably most of the coolness between him and the HPD now was on his side. Because those acting the friendliest were the ones who'd stone-walled him on the Meka investigation; Danny had no truck with hypocrites.

Duke Lukela wasn't one of the tools, fortunately.

"Sergeant, what have we got?"

"A mess when it comes to trying to preserve the scene," Lukela muttered, loud enough to be heard as he turned toward them, but low enough that they could ignore the comment if they wanted.

Not that Danny figured Lukela was wrong. A quick glance had him suspecting the body had been dumped, not killed here, but any potential way to track which path the killer might have taken was already trampled by the shop keepers and tourists. Canvassing the entire village for clues was going to be virtually impossible, unless they got lucky and the vic's clothes had been stuffed into an abandoned duffle bag nearby or something. Even checking the trash cans and bins was going to be a bitch. Danny felt almost sorry for the rookies that would end up being tasked with that job.

"Male, Caucasian, somewhere in his fifties or sixties is the preliminary guess based on the wear to his face," the sergeant began his rundown. "It's a little hard to tell under the costume and the wig."

Danny watched Steve approach the body before turning back to Lukela and pulling out his own notepad. Steve would call him over to join the examination if he thought Danny needed too. In the meantime, he could get down the particulars and his own impressions of the surroundings. Method versus raw intuition, but it had worked surprisingly well between them so far in the few crime scenes they'd canvassed. Most of Five-0's cases had been kidnappings or missing persons, with them being brought in for dead bodies after the scenes had been processed. Frankly, Danny didn't miss dealing directly with the bodies, but he did understand the usefulness of being on site as opposed to reading through someone else's notes like they were having to in the rest of the victims they were attributing to their serial killer. Who knew what detail might have been missed in the previous circumstances? At least this time they'd know who to blame if the clue that would break the case got ignored.

After getting the particulars on their current John Doe, Danny started jotting down information about the two who had found the body, plus details about the area; which shops were closest, maintenance and security schedules, and the like. Some of that follow-up Steve would no doubt pawn off to HPD's greater manpower, but no doubt he'd want to take some of it for the team. That was the one thing Danny had yet to figure out about his partner. Who he deemed interesting enough to talk to amongst witnesses.

By the time Danny had gotten the full run down, Steve was indeed calling him over, and Max Bergman himself had shown up instead of sending one of the deputy MEs. Most likely because this was a Five-0 case. Danny wasn't sure he'd had enough coffee to put up with Max and Steve together, however, and started to look around for some excuse to put Steve off. Getting a text message from Kono to give her a call wasn't quite what he'd expected, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Kono," he mouthed when Steve looked up to see why Danny hadn't joined him. Danny then stepped away from Lukela and as much of the crowd as he could, to give himself a better chance of hearing Kono as he called her back.

"What's going on, Kono," he started with when she picked up.

"I'm heading over to the Ilikai and Chin thought one of you should maybe join me," came her response. "HPD got a call from a woman reporting a missing person in the area, from last night, and even though it's not been forty-eight hours, they passed it on because of your body. Danny, the woman who called is a nun, and the missing man is her church's priest."

And there was the religious connection again, leaving absolutely no doubt in Danny's mind that they had indeed found a serial killer's handiwork. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Okay, Kono, we'll meet you in the lobby. Max is here with the CSIs, so we're likely to be in the way here anyway. See you in a few."

By the time he opened his eyes back up and disconnected the call, Steve was right there beside him. He meet Steve's concerned look and didn't even try to smile.  "Kono's pretty sure our victim's companions have called in him missing," he explained. "Or we have an unrelated disappearance of a Catholic priest, who just coincidentally happened to be staying just up the beach."

Steve's expression conveyed that he agreed with Danny's thinking on just how likely it was the two incidents were unrelated. Neither said anything for a moment, their attention drawn to Max's voice and the gurney being brought through. As the victim was picked up to be taken away, the hat and wig he'd been dressed in fell and someone got chided, but Danny was glad in part, as it gave them a good look at the victim's actual face. He did not want the sister to have to be the one to identify the priest, if indeed he was the victim.

When the body passed, Danny cleared his throat. "I told Kono we'd meet her in the lobby."

Steve stood watching the body being taken through the slowly parting crowd for a beat longer, then nodded decisively and started off. Like he'd been the one who Kono had called.

Danny stood there a moment longer and just watched Steve stride off, before he turned back to Duke Lukela. "Sergeant, we'd appreciate it if you stayed here to oversee the scene. I don't know if we'll be back, so you should probably plan to collect up all the witness statements and the CSI's preliminary findings and drop them off at our offices when everyone's done.

"Sure thing, Detective."

That taken care of, Danny headed off after Steve, not really too surprised to find Steve waiting on the other side of the crowd. He gave Danny another one of his looks that conveyed disappointment, annoyance, and confusion at not finding Danny at his heel – not quite angry but still mildly perturbed that his will had been thwarted while also realizing there might be a reason.

Danny just pointed back to the scene and offered, "Sergeant Lukela will drop off all the statements and preliminaries if we don't end up coming back."

Steve's face cleared, his expression turning even a little sheepish like he finally caught the clue bus about his handling the interfacing between the task force and the HPD, at least in this type of situation.

"Right, ah," he stuttered. "I… you…"

Danny took pity on him, not that he still wasn't going to give Steve grief. "Don't worry about it, Princess. It's only been a handful of months; no one expects you to know all the ins and outs of the job yet, especially the menial sh – ah, stuff," he corrected, taking in the number of tourists still coming into the marketplace."

"My job is to catch the bad guys," Steve protested, more pro forma than in any actual defense.

"Yes, it is, the same as mine, but _our_ job also includes the paperwork. And making good with the people who are predisposed to help us with that job. As long as you don't take them for granted or act like a prima dona and expect them to do your scut work."

"Well, no, of course not. That's what I have you, Chin and Kono for," Steve retorts with a grin that doesn't reach his eyes, the last of anything resembling humor either of them experience the rest of the morning.

*****

It was just shy of noon by the time they make it into headquarters. Chin had been there all morning, correlating the new elements this victim had brought to the case and now waiting to slot in the rest of the details they'd uncovered from Sisters Mary Margaret, Mary Elizabeth and Mary Theresa.

Steve had suggested Danny take the lead with the nuns, along with Kono for backup and a female presence, while he talked to the conference organizers. Danny knew Steve was more motivated to get out of talking to witnesses than it was an acknowledgement that Danny was better at it. It was also a reasonable division of their resources. Since he was the head of the task force, Steve would likely be able to get more from the people in charge, while Danny was used to talking to family members and loved ones in general, along with handling death notifications. Not that Steve would get any better if he kept avoiding this aspect of the job, but –

"The conference Father Michael James and the good sisters attended is a bi-annual gathering of multi-denominational spiritual leaders that started back in the eighties," Chin started as soon as the three of them entered into the situation room. Kono had stopped to pick up sandwiches for everyone on the way back since it was lunchtime, and Steve immediately started helping her distribute the food.

Not that Danny felt much like eating. He and God may have been more or less on the outs ever since he and Rachel split, but he'd been raised a good Catholic boy and some things were indelible, like the fear and respect nuns engendered. Dealing with the sisters, victims in their own right once they'd indeed identified the vic as their missing friend, had been about as bad as any case he'd ever dealt with, including those involving missing or dead children. A part of him was angry about that – that because of his own background he was feeling their pain to be worse than someone else's and so he was doing a disservice to their killer's other victims.

"The archdiocese they're part of sends representatives to each conference as far as I could find out," Chin continued with the background he'd uncovered. "Who gets chosen most likely isn't random, but it does look like it can be a last minute decision once in a while. Once whichever church will represent the diocese is chosen, whoever is going is  picked internally. That isn't information that's made publicly available."

"Sister Mary Margaret said Father James' inclusion was completely last minute, like the night before they left," Danny confirmed Chin's findings without consulting his notes. "A Father Daniel Edwards – no jokes, please, as I found it a little creepy _and_ Kono already made them – Father Edwards had been scheduled to go, but he got sick, so Father James replaced him." Daniel and Edward were two good, strong Bible names, as his grandmother would have said. The fact that one of the priests had Danny's first name and Rachel's new husband's last name _was_ creepy, but not from any reason he could pin down. He'd just been bothered by it, although not really from Kono's kidding.

"I got the impression Sister Mary Theresa was happier about the change, but Sister Mary Elizabeth was not," Danny continued.

Not that his impressions were likely important in this instance, but Danny didn't believe in leaving anything out from interviews, especially when it came to the things people _didn't_ talk about. Fortunately, Steve seemed to believe much the same, which had come as quite a surprise to Danny given Steve's background. His first captain in Jersey had also been ex-military, and a great believer in crimes and motivations ultimately being black-and-white. While that type of thinking had been acceptable for a beat cop and patrolmen, Danny's success rate once he'd become a detective had definitely reflected the change once he was where others also agreed crimes were as often solved because of the subtle reads. 

"I think we can safely say Father James was not targeted in advance of his arrival to Hawaii," Steve concluded. "Even if this was like a television show and the killer really only wanted to kill Father James yet had killed more people just to throw us off, he would have had to have had involvement on too many levels to arrange Father James being the one to come here. All while he was also choosing and murdering his red herrings. While I don't want to ignore the people involved in making the decision on Father James, I think our time will more productively be spent figuring out how Father James ended up on our killer's radar once he got to the Islands. Like seeing if there is some link between him and any of the earlier victims such as the same tour guide or concierge or cab driver."

"There was someone Sister Mary Theresa mentioned that Father James met with here, not a traveling companion or fellow conference attendee," Kono brought up. "She didn't know his name – "

"A Kevin Reynolds," Danny interrupted her, having pulled out his notepad before Kono finished, ignoring Steve's smirk and Chin's near silent sniff that Danny still used paper and pen for his notes instead of his stupid phone.

"This Reynolds confronted Father James according to Sister Mary Margaret, who was there when it happened. Apparently, a small group of protestors set up outside the conference, objecting to the presence of an Islamic clergyman who was among the speakers. Father James was one of the ones who preached tolerance to the protestors; he also negotiated a peaceful resolution. Reynolds was the only one who still wanted to push things, but Sister Mary Margaret said that Father James convinced him to take his protests private. He invited Reynolds to lunch to hear his grievance, though the sister wasn't sure why. This was on Wednesday."

Chin's magic computer-fu had two searches popping up on the hanging screens almost immediately. The first showed the security and police reports on the demonstration, complete with images from local news footage and nearby security cameras which HPD had copied. The second was a list of the five Kevin Reynolds who currently lived in Hawaii, then the background details he could find from common sources. One stood out instantly, the visual confirmation of matching his driver's license photo to one of the protest videos frankly unnecessary.

Kevin Kaloka Reynolds, born and raised on Maui, in Paia, until he'd left his parents home to attend the Florida campus of the Asbury Theological Seminary. Until the end of last spring's semester, after which he'd dropped out and returned to Paia.

"Chin, start making calls to find out why Reynolds left school and see if there is any way he and Father James might have come into contact before last week. Maybe Father James taught courses or was a speaker on the seminary circuit."

Chin nodded. "Right, I'll see if I can get access to emails on both their parts in case they were internet buddies or Father James was doing some remote counseling."

"Kono," Steve continued his orders, "return to the Ilikai and see if any of the sisters might know of some relationship between the two. Maybe Sister Mary Elizabeth's unhappiness about Father James coming here was because she didn't want the two of them to meet. Danny and I will see if we can track down where Reynolds is now, and where he's been staying. If we have to, we'll fly over to Maui and interview his parents." Steve turned back to Chin. "They're still alive, right?"

Typical Steve, decisive and full steam ahead, and Danny was almost regretful to be the voice of reason because he wanted to be doing something proactive himself.

"Steve, hold on and take another look. According to his current driver's license, Reynolds is five foot eight and a hundred and fifty pounds. Father James was over six feet and rang in at two-forty or two-fifty I'm thinking, even without all the pirate regalia. I'm not saying it's impossible for Reynolds to have done all the manhandling of the body, but it's pretty much as unlikely as our serial killer being a woman. If the criteria for choosing the victims is simply locale and access, there would have been others who would have been easier for someone Reynolds' size to deal with. Sister Mary Margaret for one; she's shorter than I am by a couple of inches."

Steve's expression turned strangled, like he was trying to stay put out while also trying to figure out some kind of short joke and realizing now wasn't really the time. Finally he just settled on pissed. Danny knew the frustration wasn't personal and that before the day ended, Steve would even be grateful that they hadn't wasted hours in what would likely be a fruitless search. Not that he'd ever thank Danny for also saving him the embarrassment of going off half cocked.

"I'm not saying we won't still do any of that," Danny continued, because they would, he knew. They'd have too since there could still be a connection with Reynolds, and verifying something even if it only eliminated someone as a suspect once and for all had its own value. "But we've got more to consider and maybe it's too early to go all Rambo on Reynolds. We don't even have Max's preliminary findings and I, for one, would love to know how our killer is getting his victims to cooperate."

"What do you mean?" Kono asked.

"It's liked we talked about before. Either our killer is getting his victims to play dress up, which is quite unlikely in Father James' case, what with being cast as a pirate, or he's getting them to a place and state where he can dress them up. And let me tell you, even undressing someone who is only five, when she's dead to the world and simply limp weight, is not easy. Neither is dressing them in something else."

Even with Rachel's help, they'd had a time of it that night when Gracie had slipped from Rachel's help while removing her jumper and had fallen to crack her head against the bathtub. They'd only bothered getting her further out of her clothes because she'd managed to tangle her arm behind her back and was near to breaking it too. They hadn't even bothered with trying to redress her into anything, Danny had simply tucking her into a blanket and set her in Rachel's lap while he'd broken all speed records getting them to the closest emergency room.

Steve wasn't the only one who looked like he wanted to ask, but instead he gave a short nod and a vague gesture toward the pieces of data strung out across the table and screens. "Somehow he must be getting his victims to go somewhere out of sight where he then subdues them with drugs or threats. A drug like Ketamine can make people hallucinate and, therefore, somewhat be susceptible to suggestion. But would that really include getting a Catholic priest to strip and then dress like a pirate?"

Chin started tapping again and said, "At least we've found the body right away this time compared to the others. If a drug or toxin is being used, Max should be able to find traces, although there are a few that break down pretty quickly and we still don't have an established time of death narrower than between nine last night and when the body was discovered this morning. None of these," and yet another list popped up, "are common household items, so our guy either has to have connections or access. He could be brewing his own, which might make him a chemist or a chem student."

"Someone with a medical background," Kono offered. "Lots of tours have EMTs on call or on staff, and certainly all of the sites would."

"Which brings us back to the tours themselves. Danny, did you get a copy of Father James' schedule for the conference, along with a list of any day trips or off-site meetings?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded. "The conference itself is scheduled for five days; their stay was planned for ten, including arriving two days before it started and the rest staying afterward. So far the four of them stuck pretty much around their hotel, but instead of attending the second day of the conference, Father James and Sister Mary Theresa, along with a handful of other attendees, flew over to the Big Island and Molokai, for a visit to Kalapaupa – "

"Kalaupapa," all three of the locals corrected his mangled pronunciation.

"– _Leprosy Settlement_ that morning, then to the Mokuaikaua Church during the afternoon and early evening before flying back here. That does give us a very tentative connection to victim number four."

"By opening up our suspect pool to include every other tourist or local who decided to visit each location at the same time," Steve said in obvious frustration.

"I asked the sister to put the word out to the other conference attendees to let us copy any videos they might have shot so far during their trips, on the off chance we'll get a background match beyond the ones taking the same tours," Danny mentioned. "I'm not holding my breath that we're going to get anything useful though, or actually very much at all. Sister Mary Theresa mentioned that one of the tour guides brought up video opportunities and only two of the conference members admitted to even having brought cameras."

"Are we going to be able to get a copy of the list of all the people registered for the conference?" Chin asked.

Steve shook his head. "Not without a warrant. Privacy issues," he groused, like he wouldn't be concerned about the same were he in the organizers' position. "They have promised all cooperation if we do get the warrant," he then added, and maybe that was what had offended him so much: that they weren't so concerned on their attendees behalf as their own and were just covering their asses so not to be sued.

"I'll get the warrant going then," Kono volunteered. "For the membership names and for full access to any footage or identifications made of the protesters. Just in case that's what drew the killer's eye to Father James. After lunch, okay, boss?"

Steve looked own at the piles of food none of them had opened, in part because Chin would have had kittens if someone spilled something on his table computer, but also because they'd all gotten so caught up in the information dump.

"Right. We'll take a break, eat the lunch Kono so graciously picked out for us, then meet back here in an hour and a half," Steve conceded. "No doubt the judges are going to be on their lunch breaks right now too."

"Or we could take our lunches out to the grass and all eat together and maybe talk about what our Christmas plans are. Or how Thanksgiving went," Danny suggested with an edge to his voice from Steve's too easy capitulation. "Maybe Max takes his lunch break differently from most people, but even if he is still working right now, he isn't going to appreciate you showing up to loom over his shoulder and the autopsy isn't going to get done any faster just because you've set a schedule, babe."

Steve's expression darkened again as Danny chided, but smoothed out enough by the end that Danny knew Steve wasn't as pissed as he appeared. Knew, too, that some part of Steve got a kick out of Danny figuring him out; that someone took the time and bother to even try, which was as much sad as interesting, given what it said about Steve's previous relationships. Danny had his own ego and appreciation when people acknowledged he wasn't some cliché dumb cop, and keeping ahead – or even up – with Steve had its other rewards. Danny figured they'd get around to exploring those someday.

Dealing with Steve was sometimes a little too much like dealing with Grace or even, in ways, like Rachel – Danny was afraid to look at that too closely, though. He'd had too much experience in dealing with either, however, to ever be intimidated by resentment or bowled over by pouting – or that mixture of both that Steve did so well.

"Fine," Steve grumped in his best three-year-old's tone. "What are everyone's plans for Christmas?"

 **Interlude**

As he sits and cuts out his articles, he's starting to wonder if he should be smug or frustrated. It isn't like he wants to be stopped, to be caught – certainly not before he finishes. He's been expecting more of a challenge, though. From reading about them, the Hawaii Five-0 Task Force is supposed to be the best, the answer to the Islands' burgeoning criminal element and the drugs, guns and gangs which keep flowing in with the tourists, all of whom despoil his paradise.

By now he's been expecting to have made an impact, if not on Five-0, then at least with the press. Yet it seems no one has put it together, no lurid headlines or even cautionary warnings for tourists to be wary have appeared. No internet rumors… just nothing to warn the pasty interlopers to stay on their mainland and keep their tainted money and even more tainted dreams away.

How did the kids put it? It looks like it's time to up his game.

********

After the most recent fruitless and then crazy days –  after too many similar weeks –  the last thing Steve expected to deal with at half-past-midnight was company. He'd specifically come back into work expressly to avoid any good meaning company; the Governor's, Kamekona's, even his team's. Yet here Danny was, striding through the doors of their HQ with two large plastic cups and a six-pack of beer in his hands, along with a bag of something greasy tucked between his chin and neck. Steve moved out from behind the table computer to help, as despite his earlier intent, he found himself unaccountably pleased by the interruption. By it being Danny who'd come in, even though his partner had had plans with his old HPD's partner's wife.

"I thought you had a thing?" was all Steve said, though, while taking the six-pack and the bag. This close he could smell that it didn't contain malasadas as he'd expected, but greasy tacos instead. One of _his_ guilty favorites. And the cups smelled like lemonade, of all things. The perfect non alcoholic accompaniment to tacos. "Wasn't the HPD thing tonight?"

Danny shrugged as he moved past Steve; another man would have most likely spilled or at least sloshed the drinks when his hands joined in the gesture. Steve followed, amused to find Danny was leading him into his own office instead of Danny's.

"Amy told everyone she had to get back to let the sitter go home at eleven thirty," Danny explained. "Which might have even been true, but I suspect she ended up feeling the same way I did, and had had all she could stomach. Sure, those guys showing up to Meka's wake was one thing, but for them to keep coming up all night and talking about what a great guy Meka was when they were the same ones who were so quick to think the worst of him and turned their backs on her… " He trailed off and shook his head, his expression one of disgust, before he set himself down in one of the visitor chairs Steve had in front of his desk.

"I figured coming here to remind myself what real police did was a better idea than throwing a punch. Or getting drunk like the rest of them."

Maybe, but Danny had stopped long enough to pick up fortification – for two – after he'd dropped Amy off and if they'd truly left at 11:30, Danny wouldn't have had time to do that, plus stop by Steve's place first to find out he wasn't home _and_ guess that Steve was here instead. No, Danny had predicted from the onset that Steve would be here, knew Steve that well, and instead of being terrified by that level of transparency, Steve only felt grateful.

"We probably shouldn't drink the beer unless we want Chin and Kono to find us drooling onto each other, asleep on the couch," Steve remarked as he took the seat next to Danny instead of heading around to the other side. He dug into the bag and pulled out the two tacos, quickly unwrapping his and taking a large bite. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure of the last time he'd eaten; after seeing Mary off at the airport, he hadn't felt like stopping for anything. He maybe made an embarrassing noise for how good the taco tasted, but Danny only shot him a grin without adding any standard teasing.

"Figured we'd be getting another visit from the Governor tomorrow to discuss Koji Ishikawa's death, and I didn't want her to be disappointed that your fridge was still emptied from the first time she'd raided it," Danny offered as he rose and put the bottles from the six-pack into Steve's mini-fridge.

"The second one's yours too, babe," he then said as he returned to his seat, pointing at the other taco. "The one thing HPD does well is cater their parties. I filled up on wings and anniversary cake. Chocolate with raspberry filling and white cream frosting."

Steve feared his smile might be a little too telling, but Danny only softened his grin and smiled in return. He could see that Danny looked as drained as Steve felt right now, the toll of the past few days having left them both a little more raw and open than they'd normally show. The thing was, all of Danny's pain was on someone else's behalf. Amy's… Mary's… and obviously Steve's, which left Steve feeling too much in return.

"So you're too full to sleep?" he asked, intending to ignore what he'd been ignoring for months now, actually since the moment Danny had slugged him, if he was done kidding himself, and maybe it was time to stop the kidding – _that_ kidding. And the ignoring.

Danny shrugged and raised a brow along with a hand Steve's direction, stopping just shy of touching him. "You getting anything useful done here that you need help on? Or are you just going through the motions while you wait for Mary to call and let you know she got home to LA okay?"

It was Steve's turn to shrug, and marvel again at Danny's perceptions, even though that had been what had impressed Steve from the first and had led him to hire Danny. Steve wasn't sure that Mary would actually call, at least not until morning. He wouldn't blame her if she didn't, either, since he had no doubt the only thing on her mind after the six plus hours of flight and then reclaiming her car and driving home would be crashing. He wasn't really expecting the call, but he was here waiting for it just the same, just as Danny had pegged it – pegged _him._

He'd been futilely reviewing their files on their older serial killer case, despite knowing he wouldn't find anything that hadn't already led them to a multitude of dead ends. The other cases and concerns they'd had to deal with over the last few weeks had almost been a relief, since even with another body to add to his tally, they were still just spinning their wheels, getting no closer to identifying and stopping the theatrical killer. At least being busy with other responsibilities provided something of an excuse for not figuring this one out yet.

"Okay, so what do people do here in the middle of the night that doesn't involve nightclubs?" Danny asked when Steve let his shrug answer his first question. "Back home there'd be night pick-up games and the local Y, or driving out to the beach –

"No," Danny interrupted himself, holding up both hands to stop Steve from pointing out the obvious. Allowing one hand to fall against Steve's arm and rest there.

"Your beaches are all about the moonlight and romantic walks this time of night. Or maybe extra-suicidal surfing. I'm talking about empty piers and closed boardwalks. The kind of places you go to watch the waves crash against the rocks and think about your own mortality, not about whether you're going to get laid."

"I've got that off of my own backyard, Danny," Steve said with a smile he knew was both smug and amused. Maybe it was the look Danny gave him in return, or the emotions underlying his tone all night long, but Steve decided to add reckless to the mix too.

"Are you telling me you'd rather contemplate your place in the universe than get laid?"

He made it sound like a challenge, like he was assuming Danny didn't have that option, when he so surely did, on the off chance he'd been reading Danny wrong. Tonight and all along.

But after almost losing Chin to Victor Hesse, and almost losing Mary and even himself if he wanted to think about his failures in both those instances, Steve was feeling reckless. And so fucking tired of the fear and futility that seemed to be the focus of his life for too damn long.

Danny met his look straight on, his hand still resting on Steve's arm though Danny, being Danny, couldn't just come out and say yes.  "I suppose the beaches here do have their charms. Especially if one includes privacy… "

Putting the yes back to being Steve's responsibility.

Well, making things easy wasn't part of their relationship.  "I like to drive, Danno," Steve responded instead, drawing it out even more, but then their frequent give and take that some folks might think were arguments, were an awful lot like foreplay.

That earned him a soft laugh and a smile that made the skin around Danny's eyes crinkle. "Yeah, babe, I kinda figured that. Fortunately, in this instance, I really have no objections."

******

Normally, waking up after only getting a few hours of sleep wasn't something Danny relished. But wakefulness came with memory and a few pleasant aches confirming that real memories were so much better than dreams. Rolling to his side, he saw that Steve was still sound asleep. He wished he could take full credit for that, but the last few days had been a bitch and Steve was only human, no matter what he might expect of himself. Even Steve's body needed downtime to recover and heal.

Staying careful and quiet, Danny eased himself out from under the light sheet Steve had conceded to pulling up at Danny's request, figuring this would probably be the only time he woke before super SEAL, who would have swum the entire length of the Pacific by now on a normal day, before going out to hunt, skin and cook their breakfast. Danny wasn't much of a hunter, but he was a damn good forager and breakfast was his meal. Something he could prepare and cook better than Rachel – better than Stan's cook to hear Gracie tell it too, though that might have been more a daughter's loyalty talking, since Danny didn't doubt that Stan employed a true Cordon Bleu chef for his princely palate.

When moving around and taking care of morning matters that included shimmying into the pair of cut offs made out of sweats Steve had laid out for him before they'd gotten too busy to remember such things didn't wake Steve, Danny thought he could take a little credit. Guys like Steve didn't usually sleep so soundly when they weren't sleeping alone, not even after pretty spectacular sex. That kind of letting go came from trust, something Danny knew from his own marriage and the nights when he hadn't been able to relax enough to trust Rachel like that.

It was humbling – scary too – and far too serious to think about before his first cup of coffee. He padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, finding the makings of a perfect breakfast along with the proof that Mr.-My-Body-Is-A-Temple didn't just like grease on his tacos.  Or maybe the bacon had come from Mary, but Danny wasn't going to look in this gift horse's mouth… He set the oven to warming and got out the pan, then put together the coffee for brewing while he gathered his ingredients.

Had he not been so distracted by both the good and bad reasons for his own tiredness, Danny might have given thought to what Steve would be thinking when he woke up. Not so much in having Danny absent from his bed, as from the last time Steve had been woken up by noise coming from downstairs. Then Steve had been tasered and knocked out, his dad's Champ box stolen and, in an undoubtedly related action, Mary had been kidnapped soon after.

On the other hand, Steve wasn't really an idiot no matter how often he'd shown certain tendencies. Nor did Danny know of any burglar or thugs who'd be cooking Steve breakfast first. The smell of coffee, the bacon, and of the eggs frying up in the left-over bacon grease had to be permeating the house now. Not to mention that Steve should have his own aches as reminders; Danny liked to drive too.

Danny finished with the cooking, though, and still no Steve. He set the filled plates into the oven to keep the food from getting cold, and quickly jogged back up the stairs, finding out he needn't have worried even for a moment about getting a gun in his face. Steve hadn't even moved from the position Danny had left him in.

He went back into the bathroom then and flushed this time, figuring that noise would wake Steve, or maybe the water he ran to rinse out his mouth with Steve's mouthwash. Yes, Danny kept a kit in his trunk that included a toothbrush, toothpaste and a full change of clothes, but he hadn't been about to go retrieve them in sweats that proved that his and Steve's asses were pretty similar, but also proved that Steve was far more of an exhibitionist than Danny had already realized.

Or maybe Steve had had _plans_ for Danny in these sweats, because before he'd heard anything or even looked up into the mirror to see, a couple of fingers were stealing through the tear near his right hip and making themselves comfortable, while a quick kiss was pressed to the back of his neck.

"You do realize how close I came to spitting on you instead of into the sink," he growled as he let himself be pulled around by those three fingers. Not that he was really objecting; Danny missed the morning dance in a too-small-for-two-people bathroom, missed the hugs and even morning breath kisses, both of which Steve seemed eager to bestow.

Thank God, no day-after freak out or second guessing hindsight.

Maybe they'd have a chance at this after all.

 **3.**

"Dammit, I don't get it! How are we still working this? Stuck on this!"

Steve looked up from the paperwork he was putting together for the Governor, glad for the distraction from budget figures (full means, his ass), but not happy to have the interruption coming from an obviously agitated Kono. He couldn't hear what Chin said to her in response. In the next instant it appeared that she hadn't been listening either, because her next words were more of the same, even louder, and her movements became even more agitated.

"No. We have reams of evidence, _eight victims_ , for God's sake. How can't that be enough? We've solved worse on much less – "

Ah, their serial killer case – the first serial killer case. Chin must have been going over the 'reams' of evidence again, hoping for something useful they'd missed.

And Kono was having trouble dealing with the futility.

Normally it was hard to remember she was a rookie, with only training under her belt before Steve had taken Chin's recommendation to use her for the undercover op they'd run against Sang Min. She'd done so well there, especially when things had gone sideways, that Steve hadn't hesitated to tap her for his task force full time. But while her instincts were outstanding and her physical skills were definitely up to the job, she had no practical casework experience and no dealings with failure. In this instance, Five-0's spectacular success rate was most likely part of the problem, because while they'd certainly made mistakes along the way and probably should have handled some things differently, they'd still gotten their men – and women – in every instance except for their tourist and God-hating serial killer.

Steve could tell her a thing or two about futility and failings; he'd chased after Victor Hess and his brother for five years after all, and had only caught Hesse after Hesse had killed his father. If Chin couldn't soothe her, however, he doubted he'd do much better. Nor did he know what to say to make it better for Kono. In truth, he wouldn't have minded joining her in the yelling about the serial killer case, being just as disgusted and disturbed by their lack of progress as she was.

He was tired of it. Tired of the whole gig if he was being honest to himself. Not enough to regret his decision to stay even if he didn't still have the investigation into his mother's murder and how it tied into his father's murder on his plate now. But the team had been running themselves ragged from day one, dealing with back-to-back and sometimes simultaneous investigations and, lately, Steve felt he had barely had time to breathe. Plus, he spent all of his free time (not that there was much), looking through the images of the evidence on his mom's death that had father had amassed.

Then there was this new thing with Danny, the _best_ thing, and also something he couldn't find it in himself to regret, even if he did worry about how it might end. He'd already put his whole life into his newest team, foregoing so many of his rules and undoubtedly his common sense when it came to not getting too involved. Adding sex with Danny to that involvement wasn't likely to change too much; he was already too close to all three of them. Any loss or even departure would leave new holes he'd have an even harder time getting over than his father's death. Getting together with Danny was simply the inevitable evolution of everything, and something that was helping him deal with his doubts, futility, failures and mistakes.

The timing of it, though. Well, that could have gone a little better, as other than their first night and one memorably wild and reckless hour stolen the day before in the middle of the afternoon, he and Danny hadn't had time to do more than fall asleep next to each other. In addition to feeling frustrated about the cases, his body was pretty frustrated too –

"We've got a new body."

And speaking of Danny.

"A woman found strangled and left in the middle of the Garden of the Gods over on Lanai," Danny informed them further.

"Our serial killer?" Chin asked before Steve could, before Steve had cleared the door of his office to join the rest of his team in the command center. Chin started accessing the system on Lanai, sorting through reports of dead bodies.

"Well, it's a dead tourist found in a place called the Garden of the Gods," Danny pointed out, refraining from too much of the sarcasm that would have peppered an answer to Steve.

"But, yeah, someone there finally decided so. She'd been dressed in a cop's uniform – a stripper's cop uniform – and she was strangled by a set of rosary beads."

"Wow, almost déjà vu," Kono remarked as Chin found the file and the first images showed on the overhead screens. Her spirits seemed partially restored, no doubt by the possibility of new information that might lead to a break in the case.

Or maybe that was just Steve.

"I mean," Kono continued, "a little more torque or if the beads had been something sharp, we'd have another decapitated head. It's almost like our killer is copying our cases."

"More like when I almost lost my head," Chin muttered.

At the same time, Danny rounded on the cousins and asked: "What did you say?"

"Which one of us?" was Chin's response, while Kono chimed in with:

"Hey, that wasn't as bad as your jack-in-the-box comment last case."

"Danny?" Steve asked, cutting through the chatter.

Danny turned to meet Steve's questioning gaze. "What if the missing piece to his pattern is us?"

Chin was already nodding and started throwing back up the cases. Not the serial killer's, but Five-0's. Each write up they'd gotten in the papers at the successful close of their investigations, going back to the shootout with Victor Hesse. Not all of their cases, as not every one they'd worked made the papers, but the links were there. Between each news article and each dead body, to the location the body was found or the costume, and in some instances both. A theatrical representation of what Five-0 had been involved in, highlighted in blood and death.  All but the first murder they'd attributed to their killer.

Shooting Hesse on a Chinese freighter and a woman dying by exploding firecrackers in Chinatown.

The gang shootout during the Kukui football game had led to the painted victim found dead at Aloha Stadium. Kukui's colors were red and white, just like the Cardinals.

Ian Adams' death during the surfing exhibition, inspiring the death by surfboard over on Molokai.

The hostage situation on the _USS Missouri_ , followed by the dead Navy petty officer on the _USS Arizona_.

Meka's murder, and the victim in the Polynesian Cultural Center's luau.

The running gun battle through the outdoor market after General Pak's would be assassin, then the dead priest at the International Market.

If not before, Steve felt he should have seen it with the triathlon diamond thieves and their dead biker found on one of the Diamond Head trails.

"It fits," Kono agreed as she obviously finished her own internal review. "Except for the first one," she added, a furrow appearing between her eyes.

"The first was his test run," Danny suggested. "To see if he had the stomach for what he wanted to do. When he proved up to the task and saw how easily he'd gotten away with it, he continued on, probably using the coverage of our cases as inspiration. Only maybe it was too easy, so eventually his ego needed to make it challenge, which is why he switched from making it look like accidents to not caring it was obviously murder."

"And he's found he needs to keep upping the ante, either in the creativity of his kills, or the violence," Chin added. "It's taking more for him to get the same thrills."

"Like an addict."

Steve nodded to Kono's question. "Fortunately, that means the chances of him getting reckless and sloppy have also increased." He tapped the table and highlighted the luau murder and the most recent one. "In each of these instances, there was enough going on with the case for him to have picked a different focus, but he chose to deal with the part most personal to us. He's daring us to stop him."

"Or stop our other investigations and deprive him of his targets," Chin pointed out, though Steve doubted any of them thought that such was their killer's actual motivation.

Unfortunately, it still could be, the killer planning some big score down the line he was concerned Five-0 would get involved in, and all of these killings were obfuscation and distraction.

Danny's thoughtful expression turned into frown. "Even if the latter is the case, he's not going to stop with the killings. Which means we've got to figure out who he is and stop him from copying Ms. Lurskey's death, or we'll be dealing with his representation of Chi Han's or Henry Duncan's deaths next."

Steve wasn't the only one to nod at that prediction.

"Can we use that?" Kono asked. "We know what he's going to be looking to stage, more or less, so maybe this time we can predict where he'll go looking and catch him picking his victim."

"It would be easier if we could truly bait a trap," Danny countered. "Have the paper run a false story about something that would leave the killer few options. Having a decapitated head doesn't immediately scream swimming with the dolphins or some other tourist destination."

"We're not going to wait until he kills his next victim to track him to another after," Steve objected.

 

"We might not have to," Chin spoke up before Danny could defend against an accusation Steve hadn't deliberately intended.

"Sure, the papers have run the story about the high speed pursuit that led to finding the head, but the Governor hasn't issued her press release yet announcing that we've resolved the case. So we can stop that. And I'm sure you can convince your drinking buddy to have her office release a different story," he then directed Steve's way.

Ignoring the grins that engendered all around, Steve pulled out his phone. "While I make that call, why don't the three of you come up with some likely sites we can get some people into and then we'll work the cover story out. I don't expect our killer is going to want to duplicate himself, so it's going to have to be somewhere new, but I'm sure there are still a few tourist standards he hasn't gotten to yet. Like going to see the volcanoes or something," he suggested as he started back toward his office.

"I am not going to set myself up as bait to be thrown into a volcano."

Danny's protest stopped Steve dead in this tracks. "You are not going to be bait, period," Steve ground out, turning back around. His heartbeat started spiking wildly, even before he saw the expression on Danny's face.

Something like understanding lurked, but mostly it was a flash of surprise and annoyance, augmented by inevitable contrariness. And sarcasm that dripped from his tone.

"He's targeting tourists. _Haoles_.  There's only one of us here who gets called that. Whom _you've_ called that."

"I might have been born here, but no one knows that just by looking at me. If anyone is going to set themselves up – "

"It's going to be the guy with his name in each of these articles? Have you ignored the part where he's following our exploits?" Danny mocked. "Not just your name is in there, but also your rank. I'm sure he's found an image by now to go with that name and rank. Hell, he's probably got images galore, but maybe not of the one guy who wasn't a local football star or a pro surfer."

"But," Steve continued protesting despite a part of him recognizing the logic behind Danny's argument, "we need someone who can – "

"I know you were not going to say someone who can handle themselves. Right, Stephen? Sleeping with you might indicate I've suffered some recent mental deficiency, but I can still do my job. My knee is fine as the doctor just pronounced this morning. As are my instincts, marksmanship and sense of self preservation. If you don't believe that – if you _can't_ believe that –  then we have no business being partners. In any sense of the word."

The only thing Steve could think in the moment that followed was how loud the sudden silence was in his ears. He could see Danny's chest was heaving in true anger, but Steve couldn't hear Danny's breathing. His own either, nor his heartbeat, but that made sense as he was sure his heart had stopped beating. Then reality – and sanity – reinserted itself, in the form of Kono's gasp and Chin's soft throat clearing. In the sound of the door slamming shut behind Danny despite Steve not having seen Danny move. In the feel of his own wild No! in instant denial.

He tore after Danny, managing to catch up just as Danny cleared the entrance to their offices and started down the stairs.

"You're right, I'm sorry, I do trust you," Steve choked out as he grabbed Danny's arm to stop them both, unmindful if there were others nearby to witness his shame beyond thinking he'd deserve it if there were.

Danny's expression was all skepticism, but he was allowing Steve to hold him here.

"You're right, Danny. I'm being an idiot," Steve repeated, apologizing again. He'd apologize a thousand times if it got Danny to stay.

"It's just that I can't stand the thought of losing you. Not any of you, but especially you, Danno. Not to a fucking serial killer, and not as my partner – in _all_ senses of the word."

Danny didn't look ready to come back into their offices, but the arm beneath Steve's hand was not nearly as tense. His silence, being rare and, therefore, disturbing, prompted Steve to want to fill it, which was probably Danny's plan.

Fine.

"In my defense," Steve continued, "I'm sure I would have felt the same even if we hadn't acknowledged this thing between us. I might have done better at keeping my objections internalized in that case, would have simply found a different way to say no. Because of this thing between us, you caught me off guard and I panicked. Reacted instead of thinking."

"Which isn't exactly a new thing for you," Danny unthawed enough to retort. "You do understand what I'm saying though, right?" he asked, as serious as Steve had ever seen him, at least focused in Steve's direction.

"That we're not going to work if we let our thing – thing, Stephen? Really?"

Steve let out the breath he hadn't paid attention to holding. "What, you want me to call it a relationship?" he responded in kind, knowing this discussion wasn't over yet thankful for the breather. 

"We were – are – already in a relationship, Danno. So what should I call it? A deeper relationship? Broader? More intense? Sexual? It's not like people haven't been assuming we've been married almost since day one – "

"Relationship or thing or fuck buddies, not that I'm thinking we're just fuck buddies so don't even start... " Danny took a deep breath and any trace of the smile that might have started disappeared.

"Whatever we call it, Steve, it can't get in the way of us doing our jobs. Not only will that fuck with Chin and Kono, not to mention the Governor, but that's a good way to get someone killed. I don't know why I'm the one having to say this since you've spent most of your adulthood being told the evils of fraternization and work relationships."

"Again, you're right and I do understand," Steve nodded. "I agree, too," he added, lest Danny think he didn't. "You already know I have control issues, no matter the relationship level. It's just you, and us, and this fucker we're trying to find. We don't know who he is, don't know anything about him beyond his being a brutal and inventive killer, and if someone is going to risk their life in catching him, I'd prefer it was me. That's not because I think I’m more qualified than you, or that I think I'm more expendable than you, or that I have some kind of death wish because I assure you, I don't. It's just… "

"Yeah, babe, I get it. It's who you are, all control issues and daddy issues, and if you didn't feel this way," he continued on, rolling over the protestation Steve had been about to make, "I'd probably be looking at Kono – if I didn't fear that Chin would kill me for macking on his little cousin – or Chin himself because that zen thing is pretty damn sexy."

"There is always a threesome," Steve offered, refusing to rise to the goad as he'd already declared himself pretty damn openly to be asked for jealousy now. Openly and in front of witnesses. Including both Kono and Chin.

Fuck! This wasn't how they'd been discussing letting Kono and Chin know about their… thing.

" _Now_ you panic, Stephen?"

Danny too easily read his thoughts, or maybe there _was_ something about his face.

"Half of HPD probably knows by now, given the last few minutes and the only reason the other half doesn't is because it's not their shift yet."

"This isn't panic," Steve defended himself.

"Fine, it's tangential panic and your subtle way of changing the subject."

"As opposed to yours? Talk about tangential, with your rating your teammates and your inner twelve-year-old girl objecting to how I've defined _us_. You say I'm socially and emotionally retarded, but you're been the one who backs away each time things start to get too… " Steve gestured instead of offering another definition of what was between them, not wanting to be mocked yet again.

"What I do is offer a little siding, to let those amongst us who are emotionally stunted, not retarded – you shouldn't use retarded in such a manner ever and especially when it's not the correct definition." Danny held up the hand Steve still wasn't holding onto and stopped Steve, not just in the gesture but by actually putting his fingers against Steve's lips.

"I offer sidings," he repeated himself, "unlike some people who completely jump track. But if you need it completely spelled out, I am willing to accept who you are as long as you do me the same courtesy and we never have another incident like what almost happened here. I understand that you are the boss, and the ultimate call is yours when it comes to work, as long as you continue to recognize that I do have more experience than you in some of the things that we come across, and that you understand I have my own thoughts and needs when it comes to protecting people."

He paused and Steve nodded, not sure of how he would have otherwise responded even if Danny still wasn't pressing fingers against his lips.

"Protecting even you – especially you," Danny continued on, his expression being back to so fucking serious that Steve couldn't imagine defending himself.  

"And particularly when I'm trying to protect you from yourself. You have become a major part of my life, as my boss, as my friend and as my… other, and I have as much vested interest in keeping you around as you do me."

Danny stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. Steve did too, letting Danny feel the smile that was starting as Steve started to lose his tenseness and the awful, empty feeling that had wound through him when Danny had walked out on him. Again.

"I rant because I care; you glower because you care in return. The caring part isn't a competition. It's called love."

 _It's called love_. Surely it wasn't so easy to say, except maybe it was. Maybe Steve had been saying it for a while himself, though not in words, since words were more Danny's forte.

He nodded and again and let his smile broaden. He would work on that, on doing better in expressing his feelings. Along with working on insuring someone else didn't take his chance away.

"Okay then," Steve latched onto the easiest part of what they'd just agreed to. "If we are going to do this, going to set up the killer, we need to make sure there won't be any collateral damage. Assuming he is obsessing with us, you're going to have to convince Rachel to take Grace somewhere safe, preferably away from the Islands. Or if you think I need to, I can have the Governor make the call."

 

 **4.**

In the end, it was Kono who came up with their plan, but they all agreed and signed on to it, the Governor included. Which was why Danny was trying very hard not to blame Kono, or Steve – or himself – for this unsettling deviation.  Despite thinking they'd finally had the pieces they'd need to set a trap for their serial killer, when it actually came down to trying to invent a newspaper story to steer the killer's next move, there had still be too many potential locations and possibilities to try to cover, especially after they realized they still hadn't pinned down how soon after the killer read about Five-0's cases he went out to find his victims.

In a couple of instances it had been as quickly as the next day – or night. In others, it had been several days or even as long as week before the victim had been killed, and even days later when the body had been found. Dealing with just that variable, even if they could guarantee _where_ he'd strike, there'd been no doubt that if the guy spent time observing prior to snatching and/or killing, there was too good a chance that he'd pick up on someone taking the same tour twice, no matter how many non-native appearing police they commandeered. And that, it was feared, would send the killer away to somewhere they hadn't thought to cover. Or, assuming this guy's ego _was_ also caught up in the challenge of besting Five-0, his next effort might involve several victims, once he realized they were trying to set him up.

Kono suggested working that angle, coming up with a spin that was their best chance of goading the killer into acting rashly and making a mistake. They'd still fake a story for the paper, only this one would report that they'd solved the murder of one of the serial killer's previous victims, that they'd gotten a confession from someone _else_. A front page announcement complete with full fanfare and a photo op of the Governor making a special appearance at Five-0's HQ to thank Lieutenant Commander McGarrett and his task force for their dedication and skill.

Kono had called it right. The killer had not only been pissed over not getting the credit, he'd been angry enough to retaliate instantly. And in a personal manner.

Danny supposed that it could have gone worse. After all, they'd forgotten to take into account that the former governor's mansion was now a tourist site in itself, despite the replacement mansion occupying the same acreage that housed Washington Place. A museum and a home, complete with gardens and beautifully manicured lawns separating the two. And a Governor who liked the quiet of all that greenery, along with the relative privacy.

While Pat Jameson didn't normally conduct business at her home, she did sometimes invite work over, especially if she was taking a day away from her offices. And on those days she allowed minimal staffing, since the point was to take a break from her duties, with the security detail for the museum pulling double duty along with her private detail. The killer could have grabbed her easily enough – a security breach that would change regardless of Danny's outcome.

At least Danny could take comfort from that.

The killer, though, hadn't targeted the Governor. Danny had no way of knowing if he'd been specifically chosen or if any of the task force would have worked, but he'd unintentionally made it easy for their killer. By volunteering to drop off some files for the Governor by taking a stroll down the street to stretch his legs after spending too many hours behind his desk filling out paperwork about stupid tsunamis. He'd chosen to walk from headquarters over to Washington Place to take advantage of those nicely manicured grounds

As he'd passed the museum, Danny had noticed the postal worker who'd dropped a couple of letters. He'd given only a passing thought to helping him, and even less thought to the carrier himself. Other than noting the man was nearly Kamekona's size, only all muscle.

Danny had waved off the carrier's apology when a little of the man's soda sloshed onto the back of Danny's hand, figuring the guy had enough trouble worrying about the letter which had taken the brunt of the spill without Danny further busting his chops. He had waited until he'd passed from anyone's view to lick off the stickiness, again only noting that he'd never get used to the aftertaste of diet sodas, and that he'd rather quit drinking them entirely than get used to their bitterness.

Even running into the carrier again as he'd jogged back toward the crosswalk at Richards Street hadn't raised any alarms; Danny had taken long enough with the Governor that someone with an abbreviated lunch hour would be leaving too. When the guy dropped his entire bag of mail between vehicles in the bordering parking lot, of course Danny had moved to help instead of just continuing on; it was windy and he was a helpful kind of guy. Plus, postal workers were almost as underappreciated as cops and firefighters.

Underappreciated, and unremarked. Just a part of the scenery, even when they moved to help someone who'd suddenly felt dizzy from bending down to retrieve some of the letters. Nothing out of the normal there, nor when helping Danny's abruptly unresponsive body take a seat on the floor of a van with the conveniently opened side-door before being manhandled into an even more convenient crate …box…. Crate.

Danny had no idea of how long he'd been unconscious and stuck in the crate before awakening to discover he was being driven somewhere. He had no clue as to how far he'd already been taken. His first hope was that the killer hadn't taken him off the island, since otherwise there'd be no chance of Steve finding him until after he was dead.

Not that he held out much hope for being found even if he was still on Oahu. Sure, Steve would figure out he was missing, possibly sooner than in any of the other cases, since he and Steve had planned to meet for their own late lunch once Danny had finished with Governor and Steve had finished his follow-up with the Feds about the fake tsunami. Beyond that, however, Steve would have nothing. Just as Danny had nothing.

No cell phone for one of the Wonder Twin Cousins to triangulate on, no badge and no gun. He supposed he should be grateful that he still had his shoes and the rest of his clothes… no funky costume yet. Danny also had his wits again, and even some movement in his extremities, though the confines of the crate were almost as limiting as whatever drug he'd been given.

Danny wondered if that was normal. He was pretty sure he'd be able to take a swing at his homicidal postal guy when he was removed from the crate; a swing or maybe a kick. Actually, kicking sounded like an excellent idea. Get the blood circulating and burn through the drug faster, not to mention that there might be someone around other than his demented host who wouldn't ignore a piece of mail making noise. He also might manage to kick his way free…

All he managed was to get tired and probably ruin his shoes. Plus give himself a charley horse and bruised feet. No one responded, not even his captor, and nothing changed, not for long enough that Danny eventually let the drug in his system take him back under again, falling asleep, though only after adding shouting himself hoarse to his litany of discomforts. Enough time that Danny was almost grateful when his crate was pried open, even when it was his gone-postal postal worker pulling him out by the scruff of his neck.

He tried to come out swinging, but his time in such a cramped position had taken its toll, so there was little force behind what should have been a beautiful driving punch to the solar plexus. It turned into a wild haymaker that just bounced off abs that put Stone Cold Steve Austin's to shame (never mind his Steve's). Still, that got the guy to drop him, onto the very unyielding concrete floor, and Danny's sweeping kick went better, eliciting a definite grunt of pain as he connected with a knee. It didn't topple the tree, though, and earned him a return kick that had Danny curling around his stomach, trying hard not to puke.

Trapped in that position while he tried to get his breath back into his lungs, it was nothing for Danny to be pushed over onto his stomach, his hands wrested behind his back and cuffed, no doubt with Danny's own handcuffs. He was then drawn up into a kneeling position, only to be smacked against the back of his head when he tried to ease more into sitting, so Danny stopped fighting. Neither of his knees would end up thanking him for his capitulation, but Danny knew how to pick his battles and this wasn't one he was going to win. As he raised his head – carefully but no new swat – he saw a life-size Christ figure on the cross hanging on the wall in front of him, dimly lit and surrounded in shadows so that he couldn't see ceiling or floor.

Okay, this wasn't so much a shoot-them-in-the-back-of-head Jersey style execution, but the just as disturbing kneel-before-God-and- pray-for-your-salvation-before-I-kill-you thing instead. At the behest of a guy who had a serious hate on for God.

"Just so you know, we have been on to you for weeks," Danny lied to cover his unease when he was then left alone, seeing no need to stay silent. While doing so might have allowed him to figure out what the guy was dragging around and then opening up behind him, he had no doubt that he'd find out soon enough. Especially when the guy moved back into his field of view, carrying something into the front shadows beyond the wicked looking shark-tooth rimmed wooden sword looped over an arm.

Danny had no reason to rush into discovering the plans for his demise either. If he was stalling, it was to give Steve more time to find him, not because he was slightly apprehensive over what might be in store.

"Okay, not you precisely, because who notices a goddamn mail man? But we figured out your kills, your pattern and your inspirations. Did it piss you off that the papers weren't running your story, giving you the recognition and putting out your word? That the tourists just kept coming; your big retribution thing nary a blip on their radar?"

He heard the footsteps returning his direction, so wasn't surprised by the casual cuff against the back of his head; casual in that it only rocked him from his position instead of sending him tumbling over. Hey, at least the shark-tooth sword had been left in the shadows too.

"You should be thankful, Detective, that I do not make my war on children," was said low and intimate into his ear, the guy bending over him and bending Danny over with his gorilla-sized hand once more wrapped around Danny's neck.

"Grace's school is not as safe as they, or you, think."

Danny wrenched himself away, trying to ignore the frisson of fear that flooded him at the mention of Grace's name. Of discovering that the killer knew who he was, as opposed to having just recognized the badge. He turned that fear into his own anger, and as soon as he recovered his breath from being bent in two, spat out:

"Yeah, that and because I sent her and her mother to the mainland, you fucker."

Stan, too, but he hadn't really been Danny's concern.

This time the blow to the back of his head had more than casual force behind it. Danny barely had time to shift to take the fall forward onto his left shoulder instead of his chin and nose. It still was going to leave a big fucking bruise, not to mention that a couple more shots like that would leave him with a concussion.

Almost immediately Danny was pulled back to his knees, the guy tugging the cuffs, pulling his arms up until the banged shoulder threatened to pop. Danny bit his lip to keep from reacting, from making any noise at all, and just before his shoulder dislocated, he was let go and allowed to steady himself back on his knees. Knees that were indeed starting to scream at him, though that was likely as much psychological as from any physical damage, certainly the one that had only recently fully recovered from a torn ACL.

"And who should I be giving those thanks to?" he snarled when he could speak again, unable to help himself. "Not you, obviously; I know you're not expecting me to plead or beg or thank _you_. But I also thought you didn't hold much truck in God, the way you've been desecrating all the symbols of the church. Have a little crisis of faith recently, buddy?"

Angry people got sloppy and made mistakes, or at least that was what Danny was reminding himself, willfully ignoring that most of his own reactions were born out of anger and fear. He wasn't going to go out like a punk, though. If he hadn't caved when facing down Mafia dons back in Jersey, whose own kills made this guy's look like something that had been sanitized for kids' programming, he certainly wasn't going to go soft now.

"You thank whomever you need to, Detective," came instead of another blow, the guy's voice filled more with regret than anger. "Pray to them too, if you like. If it brings you comfort. But we both know it's not going to do any good, that prayers never do any good."

For a second Danny could be grateful to be spared another round as a punching bag. Until the guy turned the lights up full, and Danny could see what the killer had been fiddling with instead.

The Christ figure wasn't a statue. Discovering that stole Danny's breath away again, the worrisome fact that he hadn't _smelled_ that barely registered. Neither fact was the worst of it. Because now Danny could also see the floor and ceiling of the warehouse he'd been taken into, could see that he wasn't the only person the killer had targeted this time.

 _Kono_ was laid out under the cross.

Steve and Chin had to be going crazy.

******

Steve didn't think he'd ever been so grateful for a phone call. He'd had to deal with the Feds more during his time in the Navy, but he was discovering it wasn't any easier now that he was a civilian and, ostensibly doing the same job they were. How law enforcement had become more about politics than taking criminals off the street still threw him, and turf wars had to be the most worthless excuse for pettiness and bullshit in the world. He wasn't another Danny to rant, throw a punch, or storm out, but Steve had spent the last hour considering the merits of such an action. At least this phone call from Chin would keep him from embarrassing the Governor.

"Sorry, guys, I have to take this. Task Force business," he explained as he pushed back from the table. "We were done here anyway, right?" Not that he stayed around long enough to hear the answer. Chin was probably just calling to complain about Danny ranting at how late Steve was in meeting him for lunch, but that was a good enough for Steve.

"What's up, Chin?" he answered as he pushed through the conference room doors and moved steadily to vacate the Federal building before someone thought to stop him.  "Danny giving you shit – "

"It's not Danny, Steve. It's Kono. I just got a call from a neighbor that discovered the door to Kono's place left open, but no sign of her."

Though Chin's voice was steady, Steve could still make out the underlying thrill of fear, the same tone that had been present when they'd found Chin with Hesse's bomb collar strapped around his neck. The same tone Steve had heard in his father's words just before Hess had killed him. Steve still had nightmares about that tone.

"Okay, where are you?" he asked, as it was easier to think about what to do next than about what it might mean that Kono was missing. "Should I head over there or are you closer?"

"I took off as soon as I got the call," Chin stated.

Now that Steve was out of the FBI offices, he thought he could hear the sound of Chin's speeding bike in the background. If Chin wasn't careful, he'd end up as road pizza trying to handle driving and the phone, so Steve was prepared to cut it short.

"I'll get HPD and the CSIs on the way to back you up," he assured Chin. "We're not going to wait to make sure she's missing, and I'll take the heat if it turns out to be a false alarm."

"Thanks, brah," Chin replied, relief now adding to the timber of his voice.

Not that Steve deserved his thanks, as this was the kind of flak Steve should be taking, no matter the circumstances. They were all a little gun-shy asking HPD for favors right now, even if there didn't seem to be a way their actual transgression in taking money from the evidence lock-up was going to be discovered since, somehow, _someone_ had replaced the missing funds.

"I assume you've got Danny tracing her phone's GPS, so I'll head – "

"Steve, Danny isn't back from the Governor's yet, so you're going to need to do it. Don't worry, I left the instructions on the console. I'll call as soon as I get there."

Steve didn't bother to correct Chin before he hung up; Chin had enough on his plate worrying about Kono to add worrying about Danny to the mix. Steve, however, knew Danny should have returned to their offices by now, not just because they'd made plans to eat together, but because the Governor herself had been dragged into his meeting with the Feds nearly an hour ago, through a conference call. Before hanging up, she'd commended Steve for seeing that the revised quarterly budget figures Danny had dropped off to her had actually been ready before she'd had to nag him to get them done.

Danny and Kono both missing at the same time couldn't be a coincidence.

He was only five fucking blocks away from headquarters, but at this time of day with traffic and tourists, Steve knew it would take him longer to recover his truck from the Federal Building's parking garage then maneuver through the streets than if he simply ran the distance. Already dialing HPD's number, Steve was prepared to ignore Kamekona's wave and movement his direction as he raced past the court building, prepared to cut through a few parking lots and scale a few fences to get to his office quicker. Kamekona wasn't someone you could ignore, however, not when a sometimes sumo wrestler parked themselves directly in front of you.

Steve managed to stop himself from barreling into Kamekona, but not without having to steady himself on the other man's massive arm to avoid crashing into the empty cart that Kamekona was pushing instead. He dropped his phone, no doubt dropping the call too, and turned to rail on the islander.

"Dammit, Kamekona!" he began, already edging away, prepared to leave his fucking phone because there were landlines in their HQ –

"Shut it, bruddah," he was interrupted, Kamekona's fingers a hell of a lot more painful and ham-fisted squeezing around his arm and pushing against his lips than Danny's had been.

"I think Little Jersey is in trouble."

That stopped Steve's tirade –  and his mind from coming up with all of the ways his SEAL training would have led him to escape the grip of their CI who'd turned into something a lot more like extended family.

"What have you heard?" he asked, now taking the time to recover his phone. Obviously Danny having trusted Kamekona to watch over Gracie during the tsunami warning had changed things between the two; Little Jersey was appreciably nicer than some of the other names they'd called each other when the team had sought out Kamekona for his contacts and ability to gather the most esoteric and useful information.

"Not heard, saw. I think," the big man explained after a small hesitation and a sheepish look. "I've been making deliveries to my franchises," Kamekona then gestured to his ice cart. "Was over on – "

"Kamekona, I appreciate what your saying, but I'm on the clock here. We think both Kono and Danny are missing, and – "

"It was the postman," Kamekona blurted. "Big guy. Nearly my size but not as handsome," he added with a big, Kamekona-size smile on his face.

"No one is, big guy," Steve answered automatically, not wanting to think about Danny squaring off against someone even 'nearly' Kamekona's size.

"I saw the dude drop his mail bag just as Little Jersey was walking by. Jersey stopped to help, I turned back to my cousin, and when I next looked over, nothing. No Jersey, no postman. Just a cargo van speeding away and not one from the post office. At the time I didn't think nothing, but it's been preying on my mind, and – "

"Where was this?" Steve interrupted again, knowing his tone was harsh and hoping his expression apologized enough; if he hadn't interrupted Kamekona the first time, he'd already know where.

"Over on Richards and Beretania. The parking lot across from the Governor's mansion."

"Did you get an ID on the van?"

"Looked like a rental," Kamekona told him with a nod. "Late model Chevy, maroon color, but beat up and dented. Local, not airport stickers."

Meaning it was likely the driver had paid cash and if any ID was shown, it had probably been fake. Still, it was a hell of a lot more than they'd had. He could get a chopper up in the air –

"How long ago and where was the van heading?" Steve turned back to ask Kamekona, not realizing until he did, that he'd started toward headquarters again, without a goodbye or thank you.

"Bout eighty minutes ago and heading west."

Steve smothered any complaint he wanted to voice over such a long delay, instead nodded and waved his thanks, already ringing HPD again. It was probably too late to catch them on the road; west most likely meant the van had been heading toward the freeway. But he'd get the chopper in the air anyway; start everyone looking along with getting patrols out to check with rental companies. There couldn't be that many reddish Chevy cargo vans available to rent on the island, not even if it had been an individual hire instead of from one of the companies. If they could find out where the van had been picked up…

Steve asked to speak to Sergeant Duke Lukela; Danny liked him and, so far, the sergeant hadn't shown himself to be one of those who objected to Five-0's existence. He explained what was going on and what he needed as he entered and then started climbing the Ali’iolani Hale steps to burst through the doors into Five-0's offices, mildly perturbed that his voice was breathy as he talked, and silently promising himself that he'd get back into daily PT, SEAL style, once this was over and his people were found safe. He'd never forgive himself if someone got hurt because he'd let his conditioning go.

With Lukela's promise of coordinating HPD's efforts, plus a promise that he'd dispatch a rookie Five-0's way to handle some of the computer tasks since Steve was without both of his experts, Steve started assembly his car kit. He removed a sniper rifle as well as Chin's shotgun from their in-house armory, along with some flashbangs, knowing he was lucky that if Lukela had thought Steve was going off half-cocked, the sergeant had kept his thoughts to himself and had simply gone along with what Steve was commandeering. In any other circumstances, this new information would still be too thin to pursue like he was expecting, that maybe even in this situation they'd all gotten fooled, misdirected or had just jumped to erroneous conclusions, but a postal worker fit, dammit.

No one would think twice about seeing one at any of the attractions; some mail even got delivered on Sundays if the sender was willing to spring for the extra expense. They'd been thinking some kind of authority figure, maybe even someone dressed as a cop, though that was also risky if a real uniformed officer had ever noticed someone working their territory they didn't recognize. The possibility of their killer being a postal worker hadn't ever come up, though now that Steve thought it through, it was perfect.

It wouldn't take much observation to find out when the real postal workers made their deliveries in every location that had served as the stage for the bodies, and most routes were large and involved enough that the proper carrier wouldn't be anywhere around to catch the fake one out. Few casual witnesses seeing a postal worker would make note, even if they'd also seen the real one only minutes before, as supervisors or relief carriers sometimes followed up to deliver packages requiring special handling.

Steve wasn't sure most people would notice if the uniform wasn't authentic, not if they were carrying mail and had some sort of bag. It could be real, though –  he was _hoping_ it was real. Even if it was a stolen uniform, that would give them the starting point to putting a name to their killer. From there, Chin or the rookie tech should be able to start coming up with –

Chin's ringtone was a welcome interruption.

"She's definitely gone, boss. While she was out walking her dog, Kono's next door neighbor saw a mail carrier on the street. This was half hour after the regular carrier delivered the mail. It might be our guy."

"Yeah," Steve agreed with a sigh, thankful to have further confirmation for his intuition, but scared as fuck over what it meant. "Kamekona saw the same thing when Danny was coming back from the Governor's."

"Danny's missing, too?"

"For maybe eighty minutes. Do we have a timeline for when Kono was taken? Ask the neighbor if she saw any strange vehicle."

For a moment Steve heard Chin's voice only as background, giving him time to stuff his fear back in its box. This was too much like Hesse and his father all over again, but thinking of that time again reminded him of who he'd been back then, and a soldier's detachment would be useful right now.

"Auntie Pililani says there was a red cargo van parked a couple doors down from Kono's. It's not here now."

"How long ago, Chin?"  God, if Danny had been taken first, maybe they could get a bead on the van.

"Just before she noticed Kono's door was open. Less than twenty minutes ago, Steve."

Yes!

"Chin, get your ass back here. I've got a chopper in the air now that I'll redirect toward Kono's. When it gets a sighting, I'm heading out whether you're here or not."

"On my way."

******

Danny was pretty sure that Kono was still breathing, not that that was as reassuring as it should have been. The murder they invalidated with their newspaper trick had been the priest's at the International Market. The reflection of a case that had involved more than just an open air shoot out and a dead assassin. Such as the assassin's target having been General Pak, the former general and dictator who'd once reveled in committing his own atrocities.

Pak's style of uniform had never look so good as on Kono's body, but seeing her dressed thusly turned Danny's stomach and threatened to undo him where the physical violence hadn't. Seeing the array of native torture implements worse than the shark-tooth sword laid before Kono like holy relics didn't help either.

"She's _kama'aina_ ," he protested.

"She is _hapa_ , _Pākē_ , a mongrel with invader's blood. She is a sacrifice."

"And you are certifiable, my friend. If anyone's the mongrel, it's you, as in mangy cur that no one wants and who ends up being put down."

Danny wasn't sure if calling him crazy or unwanted was what brought the killer back in front of him. Although it earned him a backhand across the face that split the skin open across his cheek and set his ears ringing, he could live with that, and even the dislocated shoulder as this time it gave way when he landed on it again. He'd take all that and more if it kept the guy's attention on him instead of Kono. Anything would be acceptable if it kept her alive until Steve and Chin could find them.

"You're not even a mad dog, are you?" he taunted as he was against dragged up to his knees, no doubt just so the guy could knock him over again. "A dog is always just defending its territory. But you? You need to incapacitate first, won't take on someone in a fair fight because for all of your size, you're still a fucking coward in your heart. A craven thief in the night stealing away – "

The blow that this time damn near busted his jaw was followed by a kick that had him coughing blood and worrying that he might have taken things a little too far. Getting himself killed this early in the game wouldn't help Kono, after all.

Only able to mentally brace himself for the beat down that started, Danny couldn't protect any of his vitals, though he tried. He lost count of the hits he took, then lost sense of them. In his next lucid moment he feared he was hallucinating the sharp crack and the lull that followed. He'd obviously checked out a little, probably taken that one blow to the head resulting in too many or too hard that had sent him over. Only the next hands on his body weren't trying to hurt him and it was Steve's voice in his ear instead of incoherent rantings.

"Danny! Danny!"

Yeah, that was his name, although he'd finally come to prefer that Steve called him Danno. He forced his eyes open, well the one, and squinted from the blinding overhead lights until Steve moved enough to block them. Maybe Steve's face was then too close for Danny to really make it out, but he didn't have to see it to know that what he'd be shown, and to call Steve on that expression.

"What's that face? Are you stroking out?"

"Fuck you about my face, Danno," Steve sobbed a laugh or maybe laughed a sob into the side of Danny's face as he folded himself down. "Just fuck you, you stupid fuck."

"Not tonight, babe, I have a headache."

 **Epilogue**

Steve McGarrett could safely say he wasn't a fan of hospitals. While okay was not a word to use when he was rushing in, either by the side of someone's gurney or on the damn thing himself, he could deal with it better, and appreciate what the hospital represented. Voluntarily walking into one outside of an emergency – or an investigation – wasn't something he did very often, not beyond a CO coming in to check on his men and then vacating as quickly as was acceptable.

This time wasn't all that different. He was still the commander, and he still hated it. It was different too, in that he was feeling a lot more than just appreciative of the work done there and the lives that had been saved. His arrival wasn't duty this time, not in any sense of the word, despite him being the boss, and grateful didn't cover the depth of his feelings as he walked into the lobby of the Queens Medical Center three days after Kono and Danny had been rushed into the emergency room.

As his hands were full, he used the surf board he'd tricked out and added to the oversized stuffed Stitch to push the button that would take him up to Kono's room first. Today was liberation day for her and Steve was confident Chin had already beat his arrival, assuming Chin had ever left her hospital room in the first place for anything other than bathroom breaks and meals .

That was another gift or maybe just a card he'd need to pick up; something to thank the Governor for springing for the two private rooms. He really was working on not taking things for granted, like the Governor's largesse when it came to the task force's budget, or his team's health and safety.

Not even Nui Kanunu's death by his hand was enough to keep his fears about that at bay. Steve knew this wouldn't be the only time one of his _ohana_ ended up hurt, though he was going to do his fucking best to not let it happen often or have it occur from anything more serious if he couldn’t just take the injury himself.

They'd gotten so damn lucky with both Kono and Danny. Not just compared to what would have happened had he and Chin found them any later, but from what had already been done before they'd burst through the doors.

For more than a day, Kono had played the part of Sleeping Beauty, the toxins Kanunu had used on her too much for her small frame. It had come as little solace to find out that she wouldn't have ever awakened to feel what Kanunu had planned to do to her. That particular torture had actually been meant for the rest of them, especially Danny, as he'd been given a much lesser dose so that he'd be awake and aware enough to see Kanunu in action. The doctors had been able to flush the toxins out of her system, however, thanks in a large part to the pharmacology Max had already deciphered from remnants of the same cocktail found in Father James' body. Kono had been kept an additional day for observation and to make sure her latest blood tests showed no more signs of the poisons, and so far no one predicted any long term effects. One more gigantic piece of good luck they'd received.

Steve knew that Chin would continue hovering near his cousin for the next few days, just to make sure no more mistakes made, something Steve was only okay in turning over to another since it was Chin. And since he had his own hovering to do.

If all stayed on track, Danny would be getting out tomorrow himself, and in that their luck had been through the roof. At first glance, Danny had looked near death, blood and bruises staining his clothes and the glimpses of skin that had been visible when Steve had first taken in the scene. That it had turned out Kanunu had been pulling his blows, no doubt only because he'd wanted Danny to suffer more from witnessing what was going to be done to Kono, Steve could still hardly believe.

Oh, Danny was still bruised all to hell, would be stiff and sore and undoubtedly in significant pain for days, but no bones had been broken, no organs ruptured, and not even the gash across his cheek had required stitches. The worst had been the bruising across his stomach from Kanunu's kicks, the dislocated shoulder, and the deep abrasions around Danny's wrists from where the hand cuffs had cut into his skin. If their luck continued to hold, by the time Rachel and Stan brought Gracie back home to Hawaii three days hence, Gracie's Danno would be looking only a little worse for the wear, and be able to hold her to him without groaning or wincing for her to notice.

Or so had been the reasoning when Danny had asked Steve to hold off until this morning on calling Rachel and telling her it was okay for them to come back.

"Hey, bossman, is some of that for me?" Kono called out as Steve turned the corner to find her, Chin, and the orderly that was pushing Kono's wheelchair in the corridor before him. His musing had slowed his step enough that he'd nearly arrived late, and he thrust the foot tall plush toy into her grabbing hands to hide his embarrassment.

"Ah, brah, you shouldn't have," she sniffed, her eyes misting as they took in the paint job he'd given the board, a matching pattern to her last competition board.

"So what did you bring Danny?" Chin asked with his normal talent for defusing high emotions while Kono got herself under control.

Steve tilted the box that he'd been using most of both hands to carry. Inside was a virtual greatest hits of Jersey, including an iPod full of Sinatra, Springsteen and Bon Jovi, along with the Four Seasons, Count Basie and Sarah Vaughn, and even some My Chemical Romance, though Steve had wondered when he'd bought the downloads, if even Danny knew just how many Jersey natives were pretty good singers and musicians. Steve had also found a Jersey Shore logo t-shirt at one of the local thrift shops, and a turnpike token from another, several postcards touting the various attractions in the state, plus a bag of saltwater taffy (after learning it was first created in Jersey). He'd then finished his two day scavenger hunt with several books either about Jersey things, written by Jersey people or taking place in New Jersey, downloads of the first season of Boardwalk Empire, and the full dvd catalog of director Kevin Smith, including _Clerks, the Animated Series_. And a snow globe of the boardwalk.

"Ah, boss, you do know that Coney Island is in New York?" Chin asked as he held up the snow globe before setting it back in.

"Hey, we can go see Danny first before I'm shoved out of here," Kono exhibited her own form of sympathy and compassion, drawing Chin and her orderly into a discussion before Chin laughed too much at Steve.

Steve juggled the box on one hand enough that he could remove the globe again and looked around for somewhere to dispose of it while the cousins did their best to convince the orderly a side trip wouldn't get him in trouble, with Kono finally threatening that once she was wheeled out, she was just going to come walking back in.

"Kinda defeat da kine, eh bruddah?" were Chin's last words before the orderly bowed to the inevitable and nodded his head.

They all trooped back to the elevator and Steve let Chin push the button for two floors up as he still had his hands full. They stopped first on the intermediary floor, with a family getting on with them, and without thinking too much about it, Steve handed the snow globe to the little girl with them, reminded of Gracie though she was younger. Young enough that she was thrilled with the present even if she didn't know what she'd been given. Steve just muttered aloha when the dad looked to object, and escaped through the opening doors first, though he waited for Chin, Kono, and her escort to catch up.

"Smooth, brah," Chin said, laughing at him again but Steve didn't mind, because they were all smiles and on their way to visit Danny, and it sure beat the alternative.

Only Danny wasn't in his bed.

Steve started to panic until Kono's hand touched his arm and she pointed with her other to the bed. 

"Sheets aren't made up, boss, so he's still here and everything fine. Prolly just gone to da can, or nurses came in to take him for a walk. They get you up and walking just after surgery most of the time, so for something little like this?" She trailed off and let a big smile cross her face, too big to cover her own moment of self doubt which her slip into pidgin had highlighted.

Steve let himself be swayed, in part because it should've been him reassuring her, not the other way around, and because now that he did take that moment to think, he knew she had to be right: nothing bad had happened. First off, he would have been called if Danny had taken a turn for the worse; he was now Danny's medical proxy (as Danny was his), not so much because of the newer aspects to the relationship, but because there wasn't anyone else once Danny had decided it wasn't fair to Rachel to keep her on the hook and Mary was too far away to act in Steve's interests in a critical situation.

Secondly, Danny hadn't been that badly hurt, and while doctors did miss things sometimes, something serious would have shown up before now. He still took a look toward the restroom before he set down the box of Jersey, went over to it again when he could use his hands to confirm that the door wasn't fully closed despite how it appeared, and that no one was inside.

Leave it to Danny to take a walk when he had visitors, something Steve repeated aloud as the door opened up behind them and Danny was escorted in by a nurse that could have been Kono's orderly's sister.

Danny's face lit up despite the fine lines of pain Steve could make out, and Steve moved to help the nurse get Danny into bed, though he let her be the one who actually removed Danny's robe.

"You're looking better, Kono," Danny addressed their rookie, reminding Steve that while he and Chin had kept Danny appraised of Kono's recovery, this was the first time outside of the warehouse that Danny had been in the same room as Kono.

"I hope you are too, bruddah," she quipped back, her tone only a little uneasy as she took in Danny's appearance. "You look all diddy mow."

"I’ll assume that is not exactly a compliment, but, no, I do not need a translation," he stopped them by raising his right hand. His left was still in a sling.

"You going home, then?" he asked Kono.

"Assuming Chin lets me," she answered, raising her own hand to pat Chin's, but hitting his belly instead. With maybe a little more force than necessary to get her point across.

"I figure she'll be safe enough if I make sure she's sitting around, filling out her report," Chin teased her back. "This case will have monster pages."

"Again, I get it from the context, but that reminds me. How did you get taken, Kono? And how in the hell did you and Chin find us?" Danny asked, directing his gaze to Steve.

Steve gestured for Kono to go first; her orderly was looking a bit flustered as he no doubt had other patients to see to once he got Kono through her discharge.

"He fucking knocked on my door," Kono spat, just as mad at herself as she was still raging at Kanunu. "I looked through the peep and saw a postal worker. Didn't even think about not opening it. He jabbed me with something when I reached for the letter he was holding, and the next thing I knew was waking up here, two days ago."

Steve figured she'd get over beating herself up about that soon enough, that Chin would see to it if she didn't come to peace about it on her own. Sometimes shit just happened, and any one of them would have fallen for the same thing.

"Hey, at least you didn't ingest his sleepytime cocktail on your own, rookie," Danny said with a laugh.

Steve whipped his head toward Danny, the first he'd heard about this happening.  "You accepted a drink from a stranger?"

"I had a drink spilled on me by a stranger and, yes, thank you, Stephen, I am very aware it was stupid to lick my hand off." Danny's gesture implied it was his right hand, or maybe he was just flipping Steve off in a way so as not to offend the others in the room.

"It happened just as I was almost to the Governor's, and I didn't want asking for the nearest bathroom to be my first words to her. I didn't think anything of it and it didn't start affecting me until I was heading back to my car after the meeting, where I ran into our perp again. He dropped his bag and I bent over to help him retrieve the letters. Next thing I knew I'm waking up in a crate. I'm assuming there was another dose on the letters?"

Steve nodded; they'd retrieved quite a lot of Kanunu's props and supplied from the warehouse. "Something Max suspects he concocted himself, with a base of DMSO, ketamine, rophynol and mandrake of all things, along with a few things not yet identified. Though nothing any one thinks is too toxic in the doses you received and nothing addictive."

"Which isn't exactly a cue, but certainly a good note to leave you on, Danny. If that's okay?" Chin asked, with a gesture to Kono and the orderly.

Kono straightened herself up immediately at the implication, and started to open her mouth, no doubt to protest she wasn't tired despite what they could all see. Steve shook his head at her and said, "Save it, Kono, he's right. You've heard most of what Danny's going to be asking about anyway, so save yourself the boredom. And save me the assault. Yours and Danny's sense of smell might have been affected by the drugs, but mine hasn’t and someone needs a shower."

"Hey, I have an excuse," she protested that instead.  "I – "

"He's talking about me, cuz, and he's right. On all accounts," Chin chided her gentle. He signaled for the orderly to start wheeling her out, turning at the door to give them a goodbye. "Danny, brah, we'll be back tomorrow when it's your turn to be sprung. Steve, don't forget you brought him stuff beyond details on the case."

Danny raised his brow after Chin's exit. "Presents, babe?"

"Self preservation, Danno," Steve assured him. "Rachel mentioned how cranky you get when you're bored and have to remain inactive. She and Gracie will be coming home Saturday," he added before Danny asked. "I didn't push it since I figured you're going to be pretty bad company for the first couple of days home. Which is going to be at my place, I've already fixed up Mary's old room for you since it's on the first floor. You'll be thanking me when you have to walk up the steps to get into the house."

Danny nodded and leaned back, letting some of the discomfort he was feeling show through, something Steve took to heart as yet more evidence of their closeness and trust. Although neither Kono or Chin would have thought anything about Danny showing some vulnerability, it had been better for Kono to see Danny at his strongest; the threat of what had almost happened to them both would be sticking around, manifesting in nightmares and bouts of temper and a number of other symptoms of stress and trauma for some time. Steve was already having his own nightmares and near fugues of guilt and second-guessings.

"Do you need a nurse?"

"Nothing they can do except put me out, and I'd rather have the pain than wake up in panic not remembering where I am for a few moments. It's mostly just when I forget about how extensive the bruising is and I shift wrong. Or the occasional muscle cramping, which hurts like a mother, let me tell you." Danny tilted his head and gave a flat smile. "Sometimes I forget I'm not still in that fucking crate."

Steve reached over and linked their hands together. "That fucking crate is what saved your life, Danno. Kamekono was over at the capitol building and saw you. He didn't think anything of it when you didn't wave back and just finished up with his cousin. But I guess when he saw me running past him later, he started to put together something was wrong and stopped me because of his worry over you. He remembered a postal worker with a crate. Which got him to wondering why whoever was shipping it hadn't used a freight carrier instead of the postal service? Also, why the postal worker was putting the crate into a van instead of his official vehicle. When Chin confirmed a witness had also seen a postal worker around Kono's, we knew we had our guy. "

Danny looked down at their intertwined fingers instead of meeting the guilt Steve's couldn't hide. Making it easier on Steve to continue, easier on the both of them maybe and Steve gave their fingers a squeeze.

"We got lucky. Twice, actually. I had already ordered a chopper in the air to see if they could find the van. While we waited for word, Chin and some HPD rookie started running checks on _kama'aina_ postal workers with a religious connection. It turns out that Nui Kanunu had really worked for the post office, employed over on the Big Island up until seventeen months ago, when he quit following the death of his wife. She had been an aide working for the Moku'aikaua Church, who'd been sent to Vietnam on Church business and something of a little vacation with a couple of her co-workers. Her second night in Quy Nho'n, the van she and her colleagues were traveling in was hit by a drunk driver, another tourist, and she was badly injured. Too badly to be able to come home before she died."

"So he lost his faith with god and had a reason to hate tourists."

Steve nodded. "It's likely he was already pretty fed up with tourists; they lived on the Kono side of the island, which doesn't get as many as Hilo, so he likely saw any as an intrusion. We're not sure what finally set him off and set him onto his killing spree, but the first death was only a few weeks after the anniversary of his wife's death, and six months after he'd finally gotten her body home from the Vietnamese government. I guess since none of the others his wife had been traveling with had been killed, the church didn't help facilitate getting his wife's body home, so he started to blame them as much as he did tourists."

"And thus a serial killer was born. A postal worker goes postal." Danny sighed and shook his head, finally rolling it Steve's direction. "Is it wrong that I could almost feel sorry for him? Obviously his wife was his whole world and, well, I kinda know how that feels."

"With Gracie."

Danny gave him a look then, after a beat: "Sure, of course, Gracie. That's a given. Not that I would turn serial killer even for my baby girl. I might get a little Jersey on someone if they hurt her, and would definitely fuck them up if they killed her, but I wouldn't ever take it out on innocent people, even if I couldn't do anything to the person who took her from me. That's what I don't understand about Kennynutcase."

"Kanunu."

" _Whoever_ ," Danny groused and tugged on their hands, most likely feeling trapped without being able to gesture with either of them, but also doing nothing to break free from Steve's hold. "He crossed the line from pathetic to crazy, turned it into being about him instead of his wife."

"Turned _lolo_ ," Steve offered. "That's bigger than crazy, and insanity is a disorder, not an excuse to be evil."

That earned Steve another look and the questing eyebrow. "Thought a lot about the meaning and definitions of insanity, have you, Stephen?"

"Well, I do have this _lolo_ partner who keeps insisting that New Jersey is better than Hawaii. If that's not some kind of disorder – "

"And I've got this _goomba_ who keeps trying to be a Standup Guy to the point of being _oobatz_ , only I'd rather he – "

"Hey, what's this _try_ to be a stand-up guy. I am a stand-up kinda guy. And what does _goomba_ mean? Which is the insult? _Goomba_ or _oobatz_? I've half a mind to take your presents back, you… _goomba_."

From the way Danny's whole face scrunched up in a smile and laughter, Steve knew he had it wrong, but that was fine. Better than fine, and Steve knew he had one of his goofy smiles forming in return. He didn't need a translation to know what Danny really meant, just as Danny had never needed one for him.

Love was too small a word, and for once even Hawaiian couldn't encompass what Steve felt. That was okay, though, because words were Danny's thing and, fortunately, Steve had a lifetime to _show_ Danny how he felt.

– finis –

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
